A Tree Grows in Jerusalem, A Metaphor

Every 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.

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.

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.

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?"

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.

Stories from the Parenting Front

Among the various Jerusalem superstitions about pregnancy and childbirth, I had heard many times that if you do not make some sort of official celebration for a daughter, she will not get married in the future.  Sounds to me like an excuse for a catered party.

Last night Raphaela and I attended the Simchat Bat [Hebrew for The Celebration of a Girl] of a new cousin, Baby Rachel.  Between the family gathering, the loot bag for children and the giant table of candy AKA Raphaela's dinner, my daughter declared it to be "the best day ever."

I asked her if she really meant it, that this day and this party held the number one spot on her Best Day Ever List. I reminded her about our beach vacation, my brother's glamorous wedding, starting First Grade, and other events in our lives that could just as easily top the list.

Raphaela agreed and said, "I have a lot of best days ever."

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This morning on the way to school, Raphaela asked me, "Which nation does God love best?"

Me:  God loves all his creations and all his people.  Like our friends in Singapore, they are not Jewish and God loves them too.
Raphaela:  And what about the Arabs?
Me:  God created all people, including the Arabs.  God loves them, though sometimes he wishes that they would behave a bit better.
Raphaela:  And what would happen if the Arabs behaved better and everyone was nice to each other?
Me:  Planet Earth would be a great place to live.

Looming on the Horizon

This morning as Raphaela was getting ready for her last day of camp, she rejected every outfit that I suggested.  With tears welling in her eyes, she looked at me and asked, "Don't you want me to feel pretty?"

It made me so grateful that she has some version of a uniform for First Grade.

Which starts in less than two weeks.

When Raphaela was a baby, I would take her out for walks every day, and inevitably, random elderly grandmothers would stop me on the street.  The first would say, in an accusatory tone, "How can you dress your baby this way? Can't you see she is too hot? Take off that hat." Which I would do, because what did I know as a first-time mother.  Several meters later, another random elderly grandmother would stop me in the street and shout in an equally accusatory tone, "How can you dress your baby without a hat on a day like today? Can't you see she is getting cold?"

It amazed and frustrated me that here I was, an intelligent woman with three degrees, able to help people every day as a Doctor and run my own business, and yet I did not know how to dress my own child. I felt stupid.

As First Grade becomes more and more of a reality, I find myself revisiting those feelings of ignorance and frustration.  I don't know what kind of meal to pack for her, or if she will eat them at all.  I don't know when she has school vacation and when her afternoon program starts.  I pray that we do not have tempestuous struggles over homework.

All  I want to do is help Raphaela experience the easiest and most successful transition to this new adventure.

Endings and Beginnings

When Raphaela graduated from Kindergarten in June, I felt proud and pleased;  for a mother who cries at certain commercials on television, I did not feel anxious or sad or overly emotional.  Both Raphaela and I were ready for the Nursery/Gan experience to come to a close, eager for the next chapter.

Today I feel differently however.  Today is the last day that Raphaela will spend with our English tutor, with whom she has learned for the last three years.  On this last day of English camp, I am saying good bye to something more personal, akin to extended family.  I appreciate this woman for the energy she has invested in this class and these children, and for the warmth and love she has given Raphaela over the years.

She told me that she is so proud of how Raphaela has grown intellectually and socially, and that when she looks at my daughter she sees a beautiful child who is ready for First Grade.

Without family in the country or a spouse, that kind of feedback and support means more to me than I could have ever imagined.

Roll the Dice

When I was growing up, people quickly tired of playing board games with me that required dice, because I seemed to have magic hands.  Monopoly, backgammon etc, I was accused of fixing the dice with my super-powers, and haven't really played these games for years.

Today as a Chiropractor, my friends and many of my patients call me a "Good Witch," and I take it as a compliment.  Personally I believe that we are all capable of enhancing our intuition and our connection to the greater forces of nature, all it takes is practice, a serene mind-set and active listening.

I decided that Raphaela needed to learn strategy, as well as how to lose gracefully, because in life we do not win every single time.  In addition to her school supplies, I bought a Chess-Checkers-Backgammon set and we sat this afternoon and began to play.

While her sense of long-term strategy remains underdeveloped (perfectly normal for her age), Raphaela has apparently inherited my gift of the dice.  Perhaps there are other witchy powers that I have yet to reveal in my daughter; I will encourage her to tap into whatever natural gifts she has received.

This morning I went to Raphaela's school for next year, to pick up her school books for the Fall.  A seriously heavy pile of workbooks, I am feeling all sorts of emotions, all at the same time:  excited and terrified, worried and amazed, hoping that I don't fall short because this is the first time I am sending any child to First Grade.

I am thinking of one of the famous Game of Thrones lines, "You know nothing, Jon Snow." 

Edging Closer to the End

Next week Gan officially ends and camp begins, the end of Kindergarten and the transition towards First Grade.  Already this week, both mine and Raphaela's schedule feels stuffed to the gills, though this is normal for this time of the year.

On Monday Raphaela had an eye doctor's appointment, she was very eager to know if/when she will no longer need glasses for her astigmatism, even while she doesn't seem to mind wearing them.  We don't yet have that answer, and will have to wait for her follow-up appointment in August.

On Tuesday, Raphaela perfomed in the end-of-the-year ballet recital.  The final number was a tribute to Frozen, every little girl's obsession, and the teacher had the brilliant idea to bring in sparkly glitter as a snow substitute.  She obviously didn't think it through to its most obvious conclusion:  after the dance, when the girls were expected to be cute and composed and disciplined ballerinas, they began rolling around and generally frolicking in the glitter, recycling it as many times as they could to throw it onto their teacher and the parents. As a parent I loved watching the sheer uncontained joy of these children, but I can understand why the teacher may have felt differently, as she held her head in her hands and sighed loudly.

On Wednesday I attended the semi-annual meeting of the Israeli Chiropractors, with attendance breaking all sorts of records.  The program had substance (it rocked!), we all got to network, learn new skills and refresh old ones, and celebrate the rebirth of our professional society.  Thankfully I was able to arrange an after-school play date for Raphaela, so I did not have to rush home or feel guilty for engaging in an adult conference.

On Thursday evening, Raphaela graduated from Kindergarten after a play based upon the concept of "Small Gifts," a famous Israeli song by Rami Kleinstein.  Each song said thank you for some small but beautiful aspect of life, like the Shabbat and the blessing of a Jewish country, and the gift of friendship.  What struck me the most was the tableau of these 34 children standing in front of the parents, looking so grown up and so big;  wondering how that happened and where the time went.

At one point the Head Teacher addressed the children, and quite frankly, scared the parents with an apocalyptic picture of real school, saying "No more fun, no more sand boxes and playgrounds...I wish you children luck!"

On Friday, the 18th anniversary of my Aliyah to Israel, Raphaela won third place in a photo contest sponsored by the Jerusalem Botanical Gardens, in a group of beautifully crafted pictures taken by 11-14 year olds, and my daughter.  What better way to celebrate my life in Israel, and what better way to go into the weekend and collapse...

On the Way to Gan...

Mommy, did you cry when I was born?

Yes, I did, but it was happy tears.

Because you were excited to have a new baby, right?

Absolutely!

But you don't cry anymore, because I am a big girl.

Not true!  I am always proud of you and the things that you do, and you do amazing things.  So I will cry happy tears for a long time, and that's OK.

You know Mommy, I am very excited about going into First Grade, I just may cry.