Post Shavuot Report

(Random musings after a long holiday weekend.)

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."

Seriously.  I am not making this up.  Apparently in her previous life she was very fiscally savvy.

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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."

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."

Raphaela was most pleased.

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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.

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?"

Deal!  Done and done.

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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.

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.

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...

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.

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On Pessach, the first day of school vacation, Raphaela lost her first tooth.  On Shabbat, Raphaela lost her second tooth.

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.

She also wrote this letter, and folded it next to her tooth:

Deep Thoughts, the Pessach Edition

Every year Raphaela asks more advanced questions at the Seder, as her worldview widens.  Here are the top four issues addressed this weekend:

1. " I see they have the four boys, when do they address the four girls?"

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.

2.  "How does the evil son come about, if he was raised in a good family?"

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."

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.

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.

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?"

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. 

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.

A Time of Memory Making

Pessach 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.

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.

So many small things bring back the memories of those relatives, some now passed on and most of us scattered around the globe.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I do feel truly blessed.

The Tooth Fairy vs. The Prophet Elijah

Last night while I was brushing Raphaela's hair, her first tooth fell out.

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.

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...

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...)

"AHA!" Raphaela showed me, in triumph. "I guess N was wrong about the Tooth Fairy."

I took a picture of the new gap in her row of teeth, this milestone recorded for all posterity. 

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.

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.

I just hope that Raphaela doesn't do a handwriting comparison between the Tooth Fairy and the Prophet Elijah.

As an afterthought, Santa Clause has his own song, don't you think the Tooth Fairy and the Prophet Elijah deserves one as well?

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.

Final Countdown to First Grade

Last night, Raphaela and I went to Evelyna to meet her teachers and her classmates, making this transition all the more real. I was pleased with her Head Teacher (a woman who has a stellar reputation) and the fact that Raphaela knows 7/31 girls in her class,  from her previous years in Gan and from her English sessions.

Raphaela came home jazzed and motivated, and woke up at five am this morning because she wanted to "watch the sun rise."

[Trumpets and fanfare]  Today is officially Raphaela Day, a day during which I will not work, a day of preparation and celebration toward First Grade.

We started with a special breakfast at the Jerusalem Botanical Gardens of pancakes and French toast with all the fixins, followed by the Farewell Tour of the Dinosaurs who have lived there all summer.  At the café, I asked them privately to make Raphaela's breakfast "festive" and they slightly misunderstood;  they brought out her plate with a candle and started singing "Happy Birthday."

On the way home, we noticed that a new pet store had very recently replaced the video store on Herzog Street.  Animal lovers that we are, we had to check out this new business, and it turned into a full blown petting zoo experience.  The green parrot named Mitzi sat on our hand; we pet the rabbits; and observed the gerbil with her new babies,  these small red things the size of Bamba.  Then Raphaela and I had our intermittent discussion about when our 13 year old cat Harry might die, where we might get a new kitten and what kind of kitten toys we might buy for him/her.

Onto home, where we spent about 20 minutes organizing her backpack and school supplies, and covering her school workbooks with plastic covers.  We spent about an hour switching over her clothing dresser to school mode, adding in her uniform and weeding out clothing to be given to charity.  On the one hand, I am relieved that the routine of dressing in the morning has been infinitely simplified; on the other hand, she has some beautiful dresses and shirts that may never be worn again.

Then, almost inexplicably, my mind switched to Spring Cleaning mania.  Almost every drawer in the house was opened and emptied, the pile of charity donations grew, as well as several garbage runs.  I discovered in the process that I am more of a pack rat than I remembered, finding way many more bags, pillows, bathrobes and baseball caps than a normal human needs.

Though we had planned to go the pool this afternoon, instead we took a walk locally, running various small errands.  With everything packed and ready to go, other than her lunch which I will make in the morning, Raphaela eagerly took her bath and went to sleep on time.

Every time she said, "I am so excited for tomorrow," I simply smiled.

Botanical Gardens Photo Exhibit.

Raphaela is normally not competitive about much of anything, she goes at her own pace and remains mostly unaffected by peer pressure; at least at the moment, at age "almost six."

On Pessach we went to the Botanical Gardens and they were sponsoring a children's photo contest.  Raphaela, quite excited to join in, was quite disappointed when she was told that "children" is defined as age 11-18, for the purposes of this particular competition.  After speaking to the woman in charge, she agreed to allow Raphaela to participate, if only for Raphaela to feel considered, with no guarantees past that.

Well, yesterday I received an email from the Botanical Gardens that Raphaela is a finalist in the competition, and that she and I are cordially invited this coming Friday to a reception and showing of the various photographic works of art;  after which there will be an awards ceremony.  I have no idea if Raphaela will qualify for a specific award, and as they say, "it's an honor just to be nominated."

As well, Raphaela's photo will be displayed in London, England, at the school that is paired with the Botanical Gardens for this event.

The photograph accurately describes Raphaela's world view, in that she is very detail-specific and almost egotistical (in a positive way), because she gets 100% attention from me and has all the attributes of a classic first born/only child.

When I told Raphaela that her art would be displayed and that we would be attending this reception next week, she said, "I hope I get a prize, like one of those jumping frogs." (The tiny plastic toys that cost all of $.05 to manufacture in China. A cheesy little toy that she gets when she goes to the dentist.)

Ah to be young again, and have the most simple and beautiful dreams.

Needless to say, I couldn't be any more proud.  After all, isn't it my job to help her fulfill her potential, whatever that may be?

Marvelous Monday

The morning started with a bang.  While I was in the shower, our cat Harry caught a baby bird in mid-air, brought it back to the windowsill and ate it.  Raphaela watched the whole thing with a combination of horror and enthusiasm, and was most impressed that he did not "waste his food";  though I heard her chastising Harry afterwards, saying to him, "Now don't eat any more birds, OK?"  Harry has been staking out that birds nest since February, waiting for his chance; I give him credit for his patience and his alacrity, not bad for a 13 year old feline.


Once I dropped Raphaela off at school, for time since before the extra-long Pessach vacation, I did a real run in Gan Sacher, with real sweating and fat burning aerobic activity.  With no specific motivation for staying in shape IE no family event or marathon, I must remember the feeling of elation and commit again to continuing the workouts.


Meanwhile, in Gan, Raphaela had a show-and-tell gig.  Until now, children in her class had brought in their sea shell collection, or a favorite doll, or a soccer ball.  Raphaela decided she wanted to talk about her ballet class.  Which led into (naturally) including selections of paintings of Degas's ballet dancers, her favorite artist.  Which meant that she also felt the need to create her own pastel drawing and add that into the presentation.  Sounds more like a small art history thesis to me, I am proud of Raphaela for making these connections and creating an ambitious presentation.


Raphaela's Nature class finished off the day.  I cannot remember my childhood feeling this busy.

Post Holiday Report

Pessach food unopened:  one jar of gefilte fish, one package of matza, four packages of rice cakes
Pessach food unfinished:  Pessach coconut cookies
Appropriate non Pessach breakfast items in the house this morning:  Less than Zero


Skill set to practice for next year, Mom:  properly flipping a matza brei, so it doesn't fall apart
Tours/trips for the next big vacation:  Herodian, Beach weekend, Cinema City
Amount of time the television was used as a baby sitter:  Way too much for my taste.
Skill set for Raphaela, now that Spring has arrived:  riding her bike, swim lessons


Number of Days not worked in clinic:  Nine days
Panic level for my finances this month:  9/10
Days until next Israeli holiday vacation:  10
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Our first taste of chametz took place around two in the afternoon, when we stopped at our favorite bakery, after camp.  In a day of bizarre weather, hail stones battered the streets of Emek Rephaim for less than five minutes, and then melted almost immediately.
Raphaela said, "I think God has mistaken us for the Egyptians."
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Later today, we went to the supermarket to restock, and I handed Raphaela one bag to carry upstairs.  She slung it over her shoulder in dramatic fashion and started singing in Hebrew, "We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt..."

Pessach Vacation 2015 (Part I)

Upon returning from Seder with my brother and his family, and upon rejoicing that we as Israelis have the most excellent privilege of only going through that ritual once, our stomachs celebrated as well.  Thus we began our full week of vacation.


Day One


In the morning we went to the Bible Lands Museum, where Raphaela seemed actually nervous and uncomfortable around the tour guides dressed as Pharaoh. She kept telling herself out loud, "They are just wearing costumes, they are just wearing costumes..." I assured her that that kind of slavery would not fall again upon the Jewish people.  (Though I cannot give her any real assurances about Iran and the threat of global nuclear destruction.)  In the afternoon we walked to the Jerusalem Botanical Gardens, where the guard thanked us profusely for not driving there.  The exposure to sunlight after a bizarre Winter and the laid-back bonding time did us both a world of good.


In what seems to becoming a tradition for the past few years now, Raphaela has requested that we continue to welcome the Prophet Elijah into our house, even once the Seder has passed.  So she left a full cup of grape juice out on the counter when she went to sleep, and can't wait to wake up tomorrow and see if he took a sip.


Day Two
We arrived at the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo ten minutes before it opened, got an excellent parking space and within an hour the place was predictably beyond crowded.  I am not sure who would win the competition today of the most people squeezed into a limited area, the Zoo or the Old City (for the official Priestly Blessing ceremony).  Raphaela especially wanted to see the newest couple, the lions Ziv and Ayisha, and we met up with our cousins for lunch on the lawn near the lake.


My daughter would not share her snacks with me, the Pessach picnic I had so thoughtfully packed for us, reasoning, "Mommy, I am doing this for your own good. I don't want you to get fat!"

Twas the Week Before Pessach

When I showed Raphaela some of the goodies (relatively speaking, for this holiday) that I had bought for Pessach, she spontaneously exclaimed, "You are the great greatest Mommy!"

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The weather continues to vacillate between full-on Summer and the threats of the return of rain and Winter.  Raphaela suggested, "We should carry our umbrella with us, that way it won't rain." She laughed and continued, "We will have played a big joke on the clouds!"

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I was describing to Raphaela the mob scene that we would face at the supermarket before the holiday, and she came up with this insight:  "Why, that sounds like the plague of Locust."

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We attended the grand opening of the Gazelle Nature Reserve, an oasis less than ten minutes from our house (walking distance), across the street from Raphaela's ballet class.  Raphaela was so busy examining a pair of lady bugs under her nature magnifying glass that we both barely registered the Mayor of Jerusalem, Nir "Batman" Barkat, walking right past us.

 

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After work and errands, we end up at the local bakery almost every day for a quick cookie and cup of something warm and comforting.  As the week goes on, the display window gets more and more empty, just as our own shelves at home become less and less populated with chametz.  He really does make the best coffee in town, and I will sorely miss it for the next week and a half.

At home, having run out of breakfast cereal, Raphaela is eating things like canned corn and fruit salad for breakfast.

 

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Raphaela announced with pride, "We almost finished all the junk food we got on Purim from the Mishloach Manot!  I didn't think we could do it..."

 

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Just as every child awaits the annual Purim costume catalog, today we received the annual Pessach toy catalog, toward the ritual of Afikoman presents after the night of Seder.  Of course my daughter picked out everything Elsa and Anna (from Disney's Frozen), unaware that I have already ordered a special gift; with the hopes that this activity will get us well through the week of vacation next week.  I bought her a play house that one must first color and then construct,.

Assuming it is no more complicated than a piece of furniture from IKEA, we should be OK.

 

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In cleaning the house, I have come across puzzles and toys that Raphaela has outgrown and probably not even played with for the last few years.  Normally (to avoid potential debate and trauma)  I donate these toys to an organization during the day, when Raphaela is not home to catch me in the act.   As we will be having Seder with my brother and his family this year, and as my daughter seems to have matured, I asked her if she would agree to give these items to her younger cousin, who is not even two years old.  Raphaela immediately agreed, and even went around the house with me to find things I may have missed. 

 

She's a great kid, she's a keeper.

 

The Shoah Nursery Curriculum

Synagogue bombing in the Ukaraine
Neo-Nazi shooting in Kansas.
The official inclusion of the declared terrorist group Hamas into the Palestinian governing coalition.

You don't need to look far for signs and symptoms of the growing boldness of the anti-Semitic movements all over the worlds.  Hatred of the Jews did not disappear after the Holocaust and the founding of the State of Israel, it just got quieter in some places, more subtle for a while.

Well, the Ministry of Education in Israel (under the guidance of Yad Vashem) has unveiled their new curriculum, mandatory Holocaust studies for all Israeli children from the age of five.

It's a good thing that there will be seminars for teachers as to what extent the material should be presented, depending on the age group.  My friend AA told me that several years ago,  her daughter was taught that Hitler committed suicide in his bunker at the end of the war.  Her daughter was in Pre 1A at the time, five years old...AA noted that living in Israel, death becomes a central theme much earlier as compared to other Western and developed countries, leading up to the initiation into the army at age 18.

Given Raphaela's reaction to the death and destruction of the Biblical story of the Ten Plagues of Pessach, I am most curious regarding the proposed curriculum:

"...the program also includes the Jewish-Zionist legacy and the human-universalist legacy...it will become a part of the collective memory of the Jewish people."

"...before the siren [on Yom HaShoah], it should be explained to [kindergarten] children that this was a difficult period that happened many years ago - a period even before the children and their parents were born.  There will also be an emphasis on the physical distance IE it happened in distant lands."

"...frightening content based on physical demonstrations should be avoided."

"We recommend telling the human stories to the children; on the hand to learn about what was lost - communities, families, people, cultural assets, concepts and opinions - and on the other to hear stories about coping, heroism and rescue."

The goal, apparently, is to transmit the material appropriately, granting the lessons of history gravity while allowing kindergarten children to feel safe and protected.

Unfortunately, 1945 was not all that many years ago, and the revival of anti-Semitism is too close for comfort.

The Friday Report

As Israel's Independence Day approaches, the nursery school has started teaching the topic, including the story of the daring raid and rescue at Entebbe (Uganda), led by Yoni Netanyahu, the brother of the current Prime Minister.  Raphaela came home very excited, because just like that adventure, "we are going to go on a plane to America for the family wedding in July!"

I laughed and explained to Raphaela, "Different kind of plane, another type of  mission."

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This morning I was preparing the food that Raphaela and I give to the street cats in our area, and it spilled, creating a carpet of cat food on the floor.  "OMG!" I shouted out, and Raphaela came into the room and surveyed the damage.

Then she took a step back and said, "Oh dear Mommy, you made this mess, you need to clean it up." (My words coming back to haunt me...)

I replied, "That's true, it's my mess, but I certainly would appreciate your help in picking it up. It would go a lot faster if we worked together."

Raphaela stepped up immediately and helped.

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Our cat Harry comes into the house at night and plays outside all day.  I normally breathe a sigh of relief when Pessach ends, and not just because of the end of matza:  for the past several years, Harry has had some life-threatening medical crisis on this particular holiday.

I did notice over the vacation that one of Harry's front "vampire" teeth had broken off, though he doesn't seem to be in any pain or reduced eating capacity.  It is not unusual for a 12 year old cat to start showing signs of aging, but this makes it more real.  Thus I have become more aware of his age and his sensitivity to his surroundings.

While attempting to let Harry out of the house this morning, one of our neighbors, a family with four children whose constant setting for communication is a terrifying "Shout Loudly," saw Harry and started hissing at him and yelling at him.  Raphaela and I were trapped in the longest-elevator-ride-ever so I could not come to his rescue as I heard Harry crying in fear.

Once we got out of the elevator, I shooed away these children and their mother and said, "Shame on you!  He is an old cat who does not want to harm anyone, all he wants is to go outside.  You are not to behave like that toward him ever again!"

The mother mumbled a sort-of apology and quickly took her children away, and Raphaela leaned over to Harry and said, "There there, Harry. I will pet you and protect you and you will feel all better."

(I have always maintained that the way a human being treats those lesser than themselves is a good indication of how they would treat each other.)

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Under the category of kids say the darndest things:

While getting dressed this morning I put on a new bra, not exciting news on its own.  One of the tags was a small green heart, which Raphaela insisted on keeping, explaining that she could use it to give love to all the animals we passed on the way to school.

When we arrived at her classroom, she showed the tag to her teacher (the very religious one) and said, "I took this from my mother's breasts this morning, do you want to see?"  And then Raphaela offered to pull up my shirt so everyone could see my new bra.  I declined firmly and politely.

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Every Friday when I was growing up, right before candle lighting for Shabbat, my mother would take out her loose change and put it in the tzedakah (charity) box.  I have slightly amended that tradition, and every Friday I give Raphaela coins to place in the tzedakah box in her classroom, next to the Shabbat paraphernalia.

This morning as Raphaela did her job with pride, her teacher exclaimed, "Raphaela, you have inspired me, you have taught me something today!"  And her teacher took out some coins from her own wallet and joined my daughter in the task, hugging Raphaela when they finished.

The Boss of Me

A man in his 40's contacted me a few days ago, off one of the Jewish dating web sites.  When I looked at his profile, this is how he described his ideal relationship:"  Let the man take care of everything.  A man is a man and a girl is a girl."

After editing the thoughts in my head, I wrote back to him that I had hoped it was not his intention to sound like a misogynist, like an ego-driven controlling man with the potential as an abuser. I mildly suggested that he re-read his words and understand how a self-respecting woman in the year 2014 hears them, and is turned off by them.

Really, is the idea of a healthy relationship of equals so foreign to the available men in my age group?

Besides, I already have another human being who is the Boss of me, IE my daughter.

About five minutes after the end of the holiday of Pessach, Raphaela appeared in front of me with a reporter style notebook and a pencil, and dictated the contents of our next shopping list, our official Chametz run:  "Croutons, oatmeal, Cheerios, Corn Flakes, waffles, pita bread, fruit bars, pasta and regular chocolate.  And oh, don't forget some fruits and vegetables as well!"

Childhood in a New Light

My friend ASG, with whom we spent a lovely Seder, made an observation that has resonated with me this past week of Raphaela's Pessach vacation.  We had started on the topic of teenagers, the way they choose to dress and the effect of peer pressure, and I expressed concern that there would come a point that Raphaela would buy her own (inappropriate) clothing, and make friends with those who were not necessarily the best influence.

I often see teens walking down the streets of Jerusalem, returning from school, and my brain shouts, "How did their parents let them walk out of the house that way?  Why does a 14 year old girl have to dress like a prostitute?"

(ASG, a woman with older children and far more parenting experience, pointed out that often children will dress one way to leave the house and change en route to school.  They will also say they are at a friend's house studying when they have all taken a bus to the shopping mall.  I was such a sickeningly sweet and obedient teenager, the stories sound almost ludicrous to me.)

"Even at Raphaela's age, she does not HAVE to listen to you.  She chooses to do so.  And when she gets older, you will have to trust her, and the value system you have given her."

ASG, you are very wise.  Having spent the week at various venues - museums, zoos, meals, supermarkets - watching other kids my daughter's age not listen to their parents, I can appreciate all the more that Raphaela makes my life just a little bit easier as a mother, at least for now.

Pessach and Mortality

http://www.kveller.com/blog/parenting/thanks-to-passover-my-daughter-is-terrified-of-dying/

The death issue hung around for a while, with Raphaela asking me on a regular basis, "Mommy, I am not going to die, right?"  Or at a recent play date, "Mommy, I told my friend that she was not going die.  She didn't know that!"

After a week of respite from the topic, Raphaela informed me this morning that Pharaoh, after he died, had the choice for his Soul to "rest, or come back as a baby."

"Ah," I thought to myself, relieved actually,"now we have moved onto reincarnation."  I asked Raphaela if Pharaoh chose reincarnation and she shook her head in the negative, and we continued with our walk through the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo.

Seder 2014

This year the Seder illustrated the vast developmental difference between 3.5 and 4.5 years old.  While Raphaela was certainly not shy last year at our friends' Seder, this year she walked into their beautiful home with confidence, chatting up all the adults and playing with the boy a little older than her, without checking in with her Mommy.

This year she stood up tall and proud and recited the four questions, and in a booming voice declared the Ten Plagues without hesitation. I couldn't have been prouder, given my daughter's history of performance anxiety.

There was great joy in Jerusalem when she found the Afikoman I had hidden, and when she knew she would get a Pessach gift.  (Truth be told, I had already ordered her present and it has yet to arrive - an official Doctor Who Sonic Screwdriver - and Raphaela was happy with her smaller present, not knowing what is yet to arrive.)

We got home around one am, and Raphaela was wide awake, insisting upon setting up our own Elijah's Cup in the kitchen, so Elijah would come visit us as well on this magical night. 

"Mommy, Elijah came last night while we were sleeping and drank from our cup!  Maybe we should leave it out for him another night, in case he gets thirsty again and happens to be in the neighborhood."  Reported Raphaela at six am, after less than five hours of sleep.

Burn Bread Crumbs Burn

I am ashamed to admit that the skills I honed in Jewish Girl Scout sleepover camp have become rusty.

With great anticipation I explained to Raphaela this morning that we would not require assistance in the burning of the chametz, since I was considered somewhat of a fire expert; in the days that setting up camp, bathing au natural in a nearby lake, building a tent and igniting a campfire that could burn down the forest was second nature.

We took our loot from the previous night's search and found a suitable spot in the parking lot downstairs, and I included some newspaper with the bread crumbs to provide kindling.  The fire burned the newspaper only and completely ignored the chametz.

I added in more kindling and watched with satisfaction as the newspaper dissolved in the flames.  But when I  pushed away some of the ash, there sat the bread, fresh as ever, mocking me..

A neighbor, a chronic smoker whose coughing acts as my alarm in the early morning, came by with his cigarette and lighter and offered a few of his tried and true Chametz Burning tips.

Then I ran out of matches.  The pyromaniac in me was feeling quite frustrated.
To paraphrase the Torah, "And Lo, there was fire and the Chametz was not consumed."

Harry cruised by and casually sniffed the charred area, and Raphaela screamed out, "Harry, be careful!  Where there's smoke, there's fire!"

After building a more than respectable bonfire, completely surrounding the crumbs, Raphaela and I were able to do the Dora The Explorer victory dance ["We did it, hooray!" with the appropriate hand flailing and gluteal shaking] and continue on our day.

For the next ten hours or so we will exist in that terrible transition zone, in which our house is Pessach ready and yet, "Mommy, I'm hungry.  There is nothing to eat!"

Now we are Free

Israeli Pessach by the Numbers:

62,000 plus Israelis will pass through Ben Gurion Airport, on their way out of the country
400 or so  flights will operate in and out of Ben Gurion in the next 24 hours
90% of Jewish Israeli citizens plan on celebrating Seder with their families
55% of Jewish Israelis plan on keeping a kosher house during the holiday

And fair warning to Israelis from a paranoid New Yorker:  Don't post your vacation plans on the social media, it simply provides easy pickings for thieves.

Pessach Camp

This morning on the way to camp, we saw several of our local street cats waddling with a full belly, and I explained to Raphaela that soon we would be seeing lots of kittens in the area.  About five minutes later, in the middle of a completely different conversation, Raphaela asked, "Do Corn Flakes have babies?"

When we got to the park, the meeting place for her English camp, we waited until several other children and their mothers arrived.  When the group was large enough, my four and a half year old offered her cheek for a quick kiss and insisted, "Mommy, it's time for you to leave now."