Purim, A Photo Essay

Above 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.

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.

Purim 2016

When 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.

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.

Today, however, the Purim Carnival and Costume Festival takes place.  Raphaela woke up at 5:30 am out of pure excitement.

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.

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.

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.

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!"

Needless to say, the halls of a Raphaela's school felt like a Disney princess convention.

Open Season

Today, this jewel arrived in our mail box:

Yes, the Purim 2016 costume catalog has arrived.  All over Israel, children will be pouring over this flyer as if it were a rare and ancient text, one that holds all the secrets of the Universe.

Play Date

After almost four months, Raphaela has a BFF in school, at least for this week...

Yesterday afternoon, she and N had a playdate at N's house, a successful one, so happy that Raphaela did not want to come home.  Raphaela also came up with a "great idea, I will dress up as Elsa for Purim and N can be Anna, we can be like sisters!"

This morning I saw the mother of this girl, and she thanked me.  She told me that Raphaela is "such a good influence" on her own daughter:  "Not only did N clean up her room, she behaved so well, and really related to Raphaela, really played and gave of herself.  So thank you!"

Happy Holidays

Today I started planning our Thanksgiving dinner, and I couldn't be more excited.  Thanksgiving stands as one of my favorite holidays, American, Israeli, Jewish and otherwise.  In my mind it represents all those family gatherings at my grandmother's Z"L, the amazing smell when you walked in the door, the annual fight over which movie to see, the Macy's Day parade and the time spent bonding with cousins.

Living in Israel, we mostly ignore the American and the non-Jewish holidays, New Year's comes and goes without notice, except that I know that I will have to prepare my annual taxes around that time.  This year, however, Raphaela seems to have taken more notice of the global community.

She asked me why we don't celebrate Halloween, and I told her that we have Purim instead; I didn't mention that Halloween commemorates pogroms against Jews.  I remember, growing up in New York as a child how we spent that night:  we locked all the doors and windows, and closed the shades.  When the door bell rang, we ignored it, and the next morning, we hoped that the area where we lived had not been vandalized in any major way.  It was the one night out of the year that our quietly anti-Semitic neighbors had full reign.

It has apparently changed, evidenced by the huge amount of friends on Facebook - those of the Jewish faith and of all levels of religiosity- who posted pictures of their family fully costumed and celebrating Halloween on some level.

As far as Christmas, Raphaela thinks that Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny are fast friends of Diego and Dora, as they appear on the (Hebrew translated) cartoon to deliver presents and rescue animals.  Every year I go to a Christmas classic music/carols concert at the International YMCA in Jerusalem, but have not taken Raphaela because she cannot stay up that late into the night.  When she gets older, I may give her the option of coming with me instead of staying home with a baby sitter, though I doubt she will know the words to any of the Christmas carols or Handel's Messiah.

(The Tooth Fairy, however, is real.)

Our Chanukah rituals revolve around candle lighting with friends and family, eating doughnuts and taking day trips, rather than the rampant materialism that characterizes the season.  I am grateful to raise my daughter that way.

Ask any parent of children in Israel and they will say that there is far too much vacation from school for Jewish holidays as it is, we don't need to add in the other religions to the mix.

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!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

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.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

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.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

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..."

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

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.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

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.

 

Our First Diorama

In anticipation of the Grandparents Party/Torah Party this Friday, the children were asked to choose one of their favorite stories and create a diorama, to be displayed and admired at a table at the event.

In what will be (I can only assume) the first of many in her academic career, I present Raphaela's rendition of Jacob's Dream.  While I acted as the consultant on the project, I can honestly state that Raphaela did the majority of creative expression and heavy lifting;  no helicopter parenting for me, something which is frankly easier to achieve here in Israel, where the young are given more responsibility and independence than in the United States.

This diorama is sponsored by a great box we got from Purim Mishloach Manot, plastaline molding clay, and Playmobil toys.

Is it almost over? Anyone want candy? Will the blue dye destroy my hair?

Yes, I am costumed as the Doctor Who TARDIS; my hair, lips and nails are blue and yes, that is a Sonic Screwdriver I am holding in my hand.  Great holiday.

When Raphaela saw the Mishloach Manot [Gifts of food, with an 105% sugar content and every variation of candy one can imagine]  from her class mates, she literally cried out of joy.  Her, along with the dentists across Israel, who will reap the benefits of this particular tradition in the days and weeks to come.

I would be remiss if I did not relay this story which perhaps encapsulates the truest story of Purim, and that is sacrifice and love for others.  On the way to our family Purim feast today, the last in the longest series of holiday events ever, we passed by a synagogue near our house.  Along the entire sidewalk stood various men and woman asking for charity, one of the four major commandments of the holiday. (The fifth being, Thou shalt get drunk.)

Carrying only the bare minimum, I felt terrible that I had not brought my wallet with me, and apologized profusely.  One of the women standing there said, "My children do not have Mishloach Monaot this year." Without hesitation, Raphaela reached into the bag she was carrying, which contained a selection of some of her favorite candy gifts of the day.  She pulled out a large package of cookies, handed it to the woman and said, "We have so much junk food at home, more than we need. Now your children can be happy too."

Mardi Gras Oops Purim 2015

 

 

In the Israeli Kindergarten school system, Purim begins two weeks before the actual holiday, with Hat Day, Pajamas Day, King and Queens Day, Inside Out Day etc.  The last day of real school, they have Costume Day, in which children all over the country can be seen walking through the streets in festive dress of sorts, culminating in the kids being sent home earlier than usual because they are too hopped up on sugar to be manageable to their teachers.

 

Then begins vacation, a three day affair which includes, you guessed it, more costumes.  The only real outfit that we bought this year was the bumble bee, which Raphaela wore on Costume Day.  The other costumes were gifts from others, combined with recyclable parts from previous years.  Every year we have a custom of going to the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo in costume, and luckily I found a stash of Purim accessories, so my daughter will not Heaven Forbid wear a repeat costume. 

 

It's like we are on a cruise ship, where you change outfits for every activity and every meal.

 

Not including of course the children's party and reading of the Story of Esther at the synagogue tomorrow night, or the feast at family friends on Friday.

 

As well, I have worn costume hats and make-up for the past two weeks, because seeing this holiday through the joy and wonderment of a little girl's eyes makes it all worth while.  For the zoo, at my daughter's request, I will be a monarch butterfly, and for the feast on Friday, I will transform into the Tardis (Doctor Who), complete with temporary blue hair dye.

 

Because you only as young as you feel inside, and I plan on aging well.

 

Post-script: I will now share my most precious Purim secret IE how to get quality costumes for almost no money.  Every year, the day after Halloween in the States, I go online with Raphaela to several good sites, and she picks out her preferred outfit for Purim. I ship it to my parents in Boston, and then they have three to four months to get it to me, either by sending it as a package or with friends who are visiting Israel. I pay about $10 a year, yesterday a friend told me that she paid $1 on a site, the day after Halloween.

Sticker Chart

Before my brother's wedding in the Summer, I was VERY motivated to exercise and run, because I had to look good in family photos that would be preserved for posterity.  But when we returned to Israel in the middle of the war, it hit me hard, resulting in an extended break in my workout regimen.  Not because I didn't know that the running was important for my health, but because I could not break out of the emotional jet lag of our trip to the United States, and the trauma of the war.

Now, with less than three weeks before Purim and exactly four weeks before the Jerusalem Marathon, I have kicked it back into full gear.  Not only do I need to look smokin' in my costume, but I need to be able to run 10K without embarrassing myself and/or collapsing on the street.

To motivate myself, I created a sticker chart, in which I record daily the amount I have run, and whether I have also lifted weights and completed a full set of stomach crunches.  Truth be told, after I run I feel quite invigorated, and get a little angry at myself for having avoided this activity for too many months.  As well, when I fill in my chart and give myself a sticker, I smile and it encourages me to continue the trend.  When I can walk up the treacherous hills of Jerusalem, the positive effect is confirmed.

For the past few days, the weather in Jerusalem has been a combination of icy cold winds, sand storms and mud rain.  I have exercised as best I can, but today I barely managed anything because it is also Erev Shabbat, and "miles to go before I sleep." 

When Raphaela came home from Gan today, she asked me (unsolicited) if I had earned my sticker today, and I realized that thanks to the chart, I have a wonderful built in coach in my house;  now my daughter will not let me slack off, and I am grateful for it.

Your Royal Highness

As Purim approaches, Raphaela's kindergarten has started teaching the topic of  "Kings, Queens and Castles." The resulting conversation last night was more than revealing to me:

Raphaela:  Am I the Queen?
Mommy:  No, I am the Queen in the house and you are the Princess, because you are my girl and I am in charge.
Raphaela:  When I have a baby, you will become the Grandma and I will be the Queen.
Mommy:  Yes.
Raphaela:  But where is your King?
Mommy:  Believe me, sweet girl, I am still looking for the right man.
Raphaela:  Well, it's never too late.  Even when you are a Grandma you should be able to find yourself a Grandpa.

(Moving onto the subject of castles...)
Raphaela:  Do we have a big house?
Mommy:  It is more than enough for the two of us, but your grandparents' house in America is bigger, and has a big back yard.  That's how Mommy grew up when she was little.
Raphaela:  But our house is big.
Mommy:  Not as big as a castle, no, but a good home for us.

I gave up a lot to move to Israel, and I do not regret the decision, even when things feel like a struggle, because I doubt that I would have become a mother to Raphaela if I had stayed single in the United States. 

The one dream that eludes me - mostly for financial reasons and the ridiculous real estate market - the one element of American life that I lust after each day, is owning a home here in Jerusalem. Not an apartment where I fight about central heating and parking spaces and whether the crazy old lady downstairs is afraid of my cat Harry;  rather, a living space that has more than one floor, relative privacy and a patch of grass to set up a hammock or a climbing toy.  A yard to host  a picnic or birthday party, or build a snowman or sunbathe.  A house where I can decorate and build as I like, make repairs immediately without getting permission, and where no owner (no matter how kind and accommodating) can decide to make the rent exorbitantly higher or decide to kick us out on a whim.

A mortgage, but with the stability of knowing that I live in my own castle.

Chanukah VIII

Last night, as we lit a full compliment of eight candles for Chanukah, Raphaela became sad that the holiday was coming to an end.  To cheer her up, I reminded Raphaela that there is always a great holiday on the horizon, with Purim the next one of the Jewish calendar, and Christmas vacation starting in the United States tomorrow.

Raphaela got very excited, and said, "Oh goody, that means we are going to get snow tomorrow night!"

(If the miracle of Chanukah is that the small amount of pure olive oil lasted eight days, then the miracle of Christmas, according to every television show, is that it snows when you least expect it.  It amazes me that living in Israel where Christmas and New Years come and go without notice, my five year old has a full grasp on the lore of these non-Jewish holidays.)

Mommy Gets a Time Out

My mother taught elementary school for close to 25 years, and  a damn good one at that.  Since I share many of my mother's facial features, I am often accosted by a stranger - usually about my age- on the streets of Jerusalem, with the enthusiastic exclamation, "You must be the daughter of my amazing third grade teacher. She's the reason I went on to get my PhD in...."

Growing up, we constantly heard in our house, "Whatever profession you choose, don't become a teacher!  You spend all day giving your kindness and patience to someone else's children, and then you have nothing left for your own."  Ultimately my mother left teaching and joined the business world, where she deals with frustrating grown-ups instead.

Since moving to Israel and becoming a parent, I have learned (the hard way) the virtue of balance in life IE work pays the bills but it represents a means to an end, toward more quality time for yourself and with your family.  But this past week has been totally disrupted by the holiday of Purim:  Raphaela had vacation from school from Friday and through Monday, and yesterday I overbooked my schedule.  I don't think I had even one minute that was not set aside for someone; a Chiropractic Board Meeting, patients at the clinic, a most necessary trip to the supermarket, phone calls and texts, picking up the runner's package for the Jerusalem Marathon on Friday, getting in a quick run before the Marathon on Friday, etc.

BTW, our day starts at five am, when either Harry sits on me and asks for breakfast, or Raphaela wakes up in tune to the rising of the sun.

By the time I had to pick up Raphaela from school in the afternoon, I felt physically exhausted and emotionally burnt out.  The candy loot from Purim taunted me, and it took all my will power not to inhale the junk food on the kitchen counter.  I had given and given and given, run and run and run all day.

Then Raphaela started with typical behavior for her age, pushing limits and asking questions in the cute sweet voice of hers, and trying to grab my undivided attention.  As well, as a single mother and the only adult in the house, no one else is going to volunteer to feed her dinner to set up her shower or tuck her into bed.

I blew up, not because Raphaela's requests were unreasonable, but because my tank was empty, beyond empty, and I could not even stand the idea of my daughter standing near my personal space.

I explained to Raphaela that Mommy was very tired, and that little things that are normally no big deal might make me say or do things that might be unusual or scary.  I told her that I was going to lock myself in my bedroom for an hour or so, gave her some of her favorite books to read, and set her up with an A-B-C video in front of the computer.

I gave myself a Time Out, and then once Raphaela fell asleep, the accumulated stress of the day kept me awake, so I cruised the Internet for hard core comedy, anything to make me laugh and smile again.

The Universe tests our resolve, do we really "mean it" when we say that our family comes first?  Well I learned yesterday that when my Inner Voice starts shrieking, it is time to take some items off the agenda and forgive myself for my perfect imperfections.

Purim Costume Parade 2014

The Gan Purim Party, Friday

Purim Day One, Sunday

 

 

 

Shushan Purim, Day Two

 

 

 

The beautiful bride received a large dowry of candies and treats.

Back to Gan and routine tomorrow, just in time for the Marathon on Friday.

Will we be the Ten Percent?

It is a well known fact that about 10% of all nursery children in Israel freak out the day of the massive country-wide Gan Purim party.

Last year in Gan, there was so much advance buildup to the holiday of Purim, that when the actual day of the Purim party in Gan arrived, it traumatized Raphaela and me, and she would not even consider wearing her costume during the entire vacation weekend.  My daughter was the ten percent.

This year, I decided to remove any expectation of fun or cooperation; hope for the best but expect the worst.  I took the costumes out of the closet one week ago and put them in a basket, so that Raphaela could (or could not) play with them at will.  Every time she asked me about the holiday or the party, I said, "Soon..." and avoided details or any sign of excitement.  I only marginally got her involved in preparations and shopping for Mishloach Manot, hiding away the supplies until the day that we would put the gift packages together for some of her friends.

All this psychological pressure, added to the fact that the news has predicted rain all week, after a terribly dry Israeli Winter.  My daughter does not normally react well to inclement weather, and I know that she would not want to get her treasured costume wet.

And Lo, on the day that was Friday of the Gan Purim Party, the rain was not that awful, Raphaela joyfully wore her costume and celebrated the day with friends, dancing and handing out Mishloach Manot.  She did even sleep in her Fairy Princess outfit, sans wings.

The difference a year makes, it put us squarely back in the non-traumatized 90%.

Modern Motherhood

My mother sent us a package from the States with home made cookies for Purim, and this morning, as Raphaela was eating one of them, she exclaimed, "Yummy, Bubby is a very good baker!"

Then Raphaela paused, and turned to me and said, "And you are very good at shopping, Mommy."

Miles To Go

In anticipation of the annual Gan Chanukah party, Raphaela spent almost two weeks singing the songs and showing me the elaborate dance moves her teacher had choreographed.  As she got dressed in her festive outfit for the party, she could not contain her enthusiasm, Raphaela was literally bouncing off the walls.

When we arrived, the large room filled up quickly, stuffed end to end with teachers and parents and grandparents and siblings and the children, the stars of the show.  That's when Raphaela went into performance anxiety/stage fright mode, and for most of the planned program sat on the side while her classmates gave their parents photo opportunities.

Toward the end of the Chanukah play, Raphaela made an attempt to join the group, but one of her teachers pushed her to the side, telling her that it was too late.

Needless to say, I felt confused and disappointed, despite my too clear recollection of the Purim costume melt-down last year.  And the reason that we stopped swimming lessons, and didn't even attempt ballet this year.

(I made excuses for it, maybe she was tired or maybe that is just her independent spirit.)

When we got home, Raphaela asked me if I was angry at her because she didn't participate, and I tried to not invest too much negative emotion in my reply.  I answered her that I was not angry, rather disappointed and sad for her;  that she did not participate, considering that I knew that she knew all the moves and knowing that she was looking forward to the event, and that it would have been fun and rewarding for her.

Raphaela reaffirmed that if she doesn't want to do something, she "will not do it."

I could not fall asleep last night, feeling like a bit of a failure as a parent, thinking about other parents talking about the debacle behind our back, and the worst feeling, that her teachers would somehow think less of Raphaela and treat her differently because of her adamant refusal.  As well, I felt frustrated because I had no spouse or partner, or even family with whom I could flesh out the issue.

This afternoon, Raphaela told me that several of her teachers had confronted her today about her behavior, and that it made her feel "icky from the icky words."

Having adopted the life philosophy that I am not going to allow lousy feelings to build up inside me, I left a message for her head teacher today, that I would like to speak to her when she had free time and the opportunity to brainstorm.  We spoke for almost 20 minutes, and I expressed my concern that while I admire Raphaela's determination and single minded-ness, I am afraid that she will not learn the benefits of being part of a group, that sometimes the rules of society are not objectionable.

I explained to her teacher that I too live "outside the box," in the sense that I generally do not care what others think of me, and that I will question the rules rather than following blindly.  However, having 45 years or so experience of doing things The Hard Way, I have come to appreciate that receiving help and dipping into the pool of the groupthink every once in a while moves things along nicely.

Hila, her teacher, admitted that she was quite surprised at Raphaela's behavior, that in rehearsals my daughter had shone and had been expected to be the star of the play.  Hila also suggested that rather than shyness, Raphaela seemed confused and overwhelmed by the large crowd.  We agreed together to meet and to discuss a long term educational plan suited for my daughter, to teach her how to straddle Raphaela World along with the rest of reality.

Yet, I am still having trouble letting go of the sadness and that sense of failure.

Graduation Day II

Similar to experience on Purim this past year, the lead up and the overwhelm of the party, her classroom overflowing with her classmates and all their parents set Raphaela into a tailspin at the beginning of the Graduation Party and ceremony.  But we worked through it and got past it, and were able to enjoy the truly moving event.

First their music teacher led the children through a fun adventure with chickens, a really large dancing clock, a baking session and a parachute toss.  Then each little person was called up to the front of the class to receive their nursery school diploma, which read (in Hebrew):

"For excellence in the performance of playing in the yard, doing art projects, having curiosity, cooking and baking, enthusiastic dancing, singing and participation in the daily morning meeting. As well as treating your friends with consideration, and for expressing boundless joy and happiness."

And yes, I cried just a little when Raphaela ventured to the front, shook the Gan manager's hand, and received this beautiful piece of paper.

In addition, they presented each parent with a series of six photos, commemorating the major Jewish holidays on the calendar and charting each child's growth. All day I can't stop looking at this portfolio, and thinking to myself, "I can't believe this is my daughter!  I am so blessed..."

At the end of the ceremony they showed a video in which each child was asked to express a wish or hope for the future.  About 50% of the children asked for a little brother or sister; 40% talked about monetary and material things, like, "I want G-d to buy me three bottles of water and my parents to take me to the zoo."  " I want my father to succeed at work."  "I want my parents to buy me lots of toys and dolls."

Honorable mention goes to the little girl who wished for her mother to become a Queen.  The award for most pious goes to the boy who wished for the rebuilding of the Third Temple in Jerusalem.

One little boy surprised me, when he had had play dates with Raphaela his behavior had been wild and selfish, and yet his wish was this his little brother be healthy and happy.  It taught me that there is much more inside each human being than meets the eye.

My daughter wished that we all have the strength to accomplish our goals.  Wow.

Purim Redux

On Purim, because of the weeks of hype from her teachers and the country and her mother, Raphaela spun into a frenzy when she put on her costume for the Gan holiday party, and it resulted in crying and trauma for all involved.

Hoping to learn from experience, for Yom HaZikaron/HaAtzmaut [Memorial Day for Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terror going into Israeli Independence Day], I did not mention wearing clothing of the blue and white variety.  We did not discuss it other than mentioning that soon it would be Israel's 65th birthday.

This morning, I laid out two separate outfits for her and told her to choose one that would be appropriate for the special day at Gan, both sets of the variation on blue and white.  Raphaela selected one outfit, put it on and then immediately started undressing and saying that she would not wear this just because all the kids would be doing so.

I love that she emulates her mother, that Raphaela seems mostly unaffected by peer pressure and likes to live outside the box, but I had had enough of this particular power struggle. I calmly explained to her that sometimes we do things that initially we might not like, but in the end we find ourselves enjoying the experience.  I also explained to her that today and tomorrow represent the most special days for Israel, the place we live, and that it is fun and respectful to wear blue and white, just like the colors of the Israeli flag. I finished off my stern discussion by saying that if she rejected her clothing, she would stay home, not go to Gan and see her friends, and not participate in Israel's birthday party.

Then I walked out of the room and did a primal scream on the other end of the house.

Within minutes, Raphaela came over to me and agreed to wear the second outfit I had chosen, a pair of white leggings and a blue shirt with a white cat design.  The cat had a cupcake, which Raphaela explained was the cake in honor of Israel's birthday.

Crisis averted, though I feel that I need guidance on how to teach Raphaela to be herself, to love herself and her decision process, and yet understand that society and friendships serve a purpose as well.  While I have taken the less-traveled and more difficult route, I wish an easier journey for my daughter. 

My Little Actress

After a vacation day, and especially after the fun of Purim, Raphaela had other ideas than mine regarding her attendance at Gan.  She woke up at 6 am, looked at me, flopped on her stomach and said, "Mommy, I want to go back to sleep."  When that plan didn't work, we had the following conversation:

Raphaela:  I must stay home today, I am so sick.
Mommy:  Let me take your temperature... (digital thermometer)  36.5, you are perfectly healthy.
Raphaela:  I think you should take my temperature again, just to be sure.
Mommy:  (digital thermometer) 36.5, you are not sick, hooray!  We are going to Gan.
Raphaela:  But I need the strawberry medicine! [Acamoli, children's aspirin]
Mommy:  You only get Acamoli when you have fever, and you don't have fever, and you are not sick.
Raphaela:  (Pauses, you can see the wheels turning inside her head) COUGH COUGH!  That's a terrible cough!  You don't like it when I cough, I need to stay home.

Needless to say, Raphaela realized that her expert acting skills would not convince me, and she agreed to get dressed and go to Gan.  No matter, she has another vacation day this Friday for the Jerusalem Marathon, an event which will close half the streets in the city and most of my area.  One which I will observe this year, and hopefully participate next year.