Fight the Power...Oops, Too Late

For Kindergarten and grades one and two, the city has a program called the "Eleventh Month," whereby the school year is extended one more month, it is called camp instead of school, and parents have to pay extra for it.

The theory behind this option is solid:  kids they know, the place they know, and staff they know, with a more relaxed environment.  Raphaela had a wonderful and full experience last Summer, even though there is no pool or amusement park on the program.

This year, the responsibility for organizing and funding was transferred from the Jerusalem Municipality, to local authorities instead.  In a letter that one of the parents only chose to share one day before camp is meant to begin, it states that the local authorities cut the budget, making it next to impossible for the staff to have enough supplies to keep the children busy in a meaningful and deep way. "Glorified babysitting," the letter called it. Instead, they are apparently skimming off the top to cover their annual budget, and asking parents to kick in extra money;  because they know that working parents have no other options, and that we want the best possible experience for our children.

To add insult to injury, the Ultra-Orthodox camps are almost fully subsidized by the taxes that we regular citizens pay.  So the group of people that as a whole takes advantage of the Israeli government, their kids will have a better camp that our kids, and we are paying for it.  I personally know several families who have a difficult time paying for two months of camp for their multiple children, and they are not Ultra-Orthodox.

Who is to blame here?  The City, for outsourcing to a corrupt organization.
No, the corrupt organization, for taking advantage of desperate parents.
No, the state government, that continually gives into the demands of the Ultra-Orthodox.
Or perhaps the parents committee can take some of the blame, having informed the rest of us when it was too late to choose another camp, or protest the current situation.

Who suffers here? Our kids.

Cease Fire

Yesterday I had a belated birthday lunch with one of my oldest friends from college, a woman who now lives in Efrat, Israel.  (Yes, over the Green Line, 20 minutes away from my house, by car.)  We were discussing the collective stress of the last month of war on this country, and the particular agony to parents;  especially those whose sons or daughters were called up to serve in the South and in Aza.

My friend, originally American, has a 19-year old daughter currently serving in the National Service Program of the army,  and she put much of this violence into a new perspective, at least for me.  She said, "Every one of those young men who go into Aza and get killed, or wounded physically and emotionally, that is one less potential boyfriend or husband for my daughter."

Because 64 Israeli soldiers died in the last month and they will never come home to their families.  And countless numbers rest in hospitals across the country, even if they recover physically they have been irreparably scarred by the war and the bloodshed.

It is quiet, today, for now, though I in no way trust Hamas, Hezbollah, and the other random terrorist groups and anti-Semitic nations who actively plan for the day that Israel will be wiped off the map, and for all Jews to be wiped off the planet.

Raphaela has told me that she plans on serving in the army when she turns 18, and will be proud to do so. I told her that we have another 13 years to think about this, and privately I pray that there will be no need for my daughter and her generation to continue to fight for our daily safety and existence, in a world that seems to have gone mad.

Today former President Jimmy Carter appealed to the United States and the international community to recognize Hamas as a valid political partner.  Like I said, a world gone mad.

We are the Champions

I had been putting off the renewal of Raphaela's passport, because who wants to sit in a government office with an active  little girl, when you can procrastinate;  after all, we plan on traveling in July for my brother's wedding and that seems very far away.

Except that once April begins, the requests for passports will fly through the roof, and we would spend hours upon hours waiting our turn in line, and weeks upon weeks to receive the new documents.  So this morning bright and early - actually not so bright, but rather in the cold pouring Jerusalem rain - Raphaela and I drove to the Ministry of the Interior.  I brought along snacks and markers and coloring books and my iPad for entertainment, and prepared for the unpleasantness that is Israeli beaurocracy.

Except that as a Type A personality, we arrived so early that our number in line was "001," and we were in and out within fifteen minutes, with Raphaela arriving at Gan much earlier than I expected, hardly even late by any one's standards.

As we got into the car to go to Gan, Raphaela looked at me with a smile and said, "Now we can get on an airplane to the wedding, see my cousins, and I can wear make up!"

Gilligan's Island, Jerusalem

Around noon on Friday, our street lost power, along with most of Central Jerusalem.  Usually cold and unbearable in the house, Raphaela and I put on several layers of clothing and jackets, since we could not turn on any heaters.

Nor did I have hot water for a shower; my hands felt frostbitten after washing a few dishes.  I could not even boil up water for a cup of hot cocoa, which would have provided great comfort for both of us.

The lack of electricity also meant that my television, land line phone, computer and wi-fi were non-existent, so I had no way of communicating with the outside virtual world, not to mention  having to find creative ways to entertain Raphaela, by candle light.  Ye olde fashioned newspaper was not delivered, so nothing to hold in my hands and read anyway.

Along with all my concerns for us, thank G-d at least inside a house, I kept wandering over to the window and wondering how our street cats were faring in this storm, having not been properly fed since Thursday and living in the thick of almost one foot of snow. On Friday I managed to find one brave cat and feed him, and today on Shabbat I found three others.

Apparently, in consideration for the Ultra-Orthodox, the city took care of  their needs for basic power before Shabbat, since they are "real Jews."

We pagans went into Shabbat with no electricity, so practically speaking we had no cooked food, and could not eat any food that required heating.  Dinner was yogurts, chumus and vegetables rescued from the fridge, with potato chips for dessert.  When power returned briefly during the evening, Raphaela's first response was, "Oh good Mommy, now you can cook me something."

Having spent most of the day today inside, I ventured outside after Shabbat to clear the snow off the car, start up the engine and attempt to move it a little, before the whole street frosts over tonight and turns into black ice.  My former life in New England has served me well this weekend.

Now for the great question:  Raphaela has been on Snow vacation since Thursday, and given the fact that the streets have barely been plowed and the situation of fallen trees, it will probably be dangerous Winter Wonderland for at least the next few days, will she have school tomorrow or Monday?

(Or will I have to cancel patients again? Ah, who needs to make a living anyway, right?)

Israel Polio Scare II

After much deliberation, listening to the official Ministry of Health explanations and filtering out the useful information, I have come to understand that only children who have already had the dead (inactive) polio vaccine will be given the weakened live polio vaccine.  The live vaccine stays active for up to six weeks.

Before Raphaela's surgery around the age of two, I felt her immune system was too weak to handle the slew of vaccines regularly offered to children, and I did not finish the series.  Raphaela is, as someone said to me yesterday, "one of the unwashed masses for whom this hysteria has been initiated," so it appears that my daughter will be receiving the regular (IPV) vaccine instead.  I must protect her as best I can before she starts school and may be exposed to the live virus through contact with other children in the new Gan.

The weekend newspapers said that we Jerusalemites were terrible terrible people, with a compliance rate of only 2%.  They reported that all the nurses specifically hired to deliver the vaccine were sitting around, twiddling their thumbs in boredom.  The Ministry of Health threatened than any child not properly protected against the disease would not be allowed in school (which starts this Tuesday) for six weeks.  The New York Times featured a page two story about the spread of polio in third world countries, where politicians/dictators deny their population the vaccine.

Sufficiently frightened, I decided that I would take her to Tipat Chalav [the municipal Israeli Well-Baby Clinic system] on Sunday. After a brief work day, Raphaela and I drove to the nearest center, only to be greeted by parents and children overflowing into the street, numbers being assigned and the warning of at least a two hour wait.  We received number 484, and they were only in the mid 430's, and so we settled-in on the floor with my iPad and played games.

At a certain point a whole group of children were gathered around our iPad, and one of the mothers offered to exchange a food run for baby sitting, since I had completely neglected to bring any food for the long wait; I happily agreed to the deal.

Two and a half hours later, I explained to the nurse that my daughter (for reasons I did not wish to explain) actually needed to start the regular IPV series, rather than receive the live polio drops.  The nurse offered me a three for one bargain, she would consider putting in Hep A and Hep B at the same time, and I very firmly refused.  Research has shown that bundled vaccinations cause more damage than a stand-alone version.

All morning long, my amazing and intuitive child  had been asking me, "What is the doctor going to do to me?"  And I had dodged artfully.  Now she understood that she really wasn't going to enjoy this doctor's visit, and she started sobbing and running away, and hid in a corner of the room.  It took five minutes for me to immobilize her, and once the nurse injected the vaccine, I then allowed myself to cry with her.  Frankly, I am surprised you all didn't hear her screaming.

The nurse assured me that it will be "this craziness in Israel" for the next three months, and then invited me to come back after the Jewish holidays for her second dose.  The nurse suggested that maybe I should bring my husband next time, or an extra pair of hands for help.  (And presumably, my husband would not cry like I did?)    I was barely listening, just trying to get us both out of there so I could comfort Raphaela in private, and not scare the other children.

Then we went to the store and I got Raphaela a fantastic treat; as most parents will agree, bribery works.  But when I offered her a Chiropractic adjustment, something I regularly recommend to my clients after their children get vaccinated, she refused.

Emergency Polio Vaccinations, Israel

The physical discomfort began yesterday afternoon, when one particular client told me a wonderful (NOT) story about how her child brought home L-I-C-E from summer camp and how the whole family got infested.  And how even after several treatments they are still finding critters in their hair.

Just great, now I find myself itchy (psychosomatic) all time.

Then the shrieking regarding the potential polio threat in Israel ramped it up a notch, with the Ministry of Health announcing that based upon recommendations from the WHO, the live polio vaccine will now be imposed upon all children under the age of nine, and not simply those who live in the south of the country.  Apparently the polio was brought into the country via the Egyptian smuggling route, from those who seem to spend time around sewers, and almost 50% of the population in the south of Israel have already received the vaccine.  Though no actual cases of polio have yet to be reported, we are on high alert.

As a Chiropractor, I have certain opinions about the efficacy and safety of vaccines, which I will not share or reveal at this time.  As a mother of my child, my greatest treasure, I find myself conflicted between the reports that state that the live vaccine increases the chance of an outbreak vs. those who claim that there are no real serious side effects.  There are even some who cite the conspiracy behind the vaccine and prescription meds industry;  they speak about "herd immunity" and claim that because most adults and children in the country have already been inoculated with the synthetic polio vaccine, this movement is merely a precaution.

I did not sleep well at all last night, partially because I must make this decision quickly, and as there is no other concerned parent in the picture, I must take full responsibility for the choice.  Having consulted with some of my friends and colleagues in the medical field, both conventional and complementary, I remain more confused and more fearful than ever.

Breathe...Breathe...

As a fairly transparent person, I 'trust' the readers of this blog with most of the details of our lives and with my feelings, and yet there are events and feelings that I do not share;  mostly because it is something that I myself cannot process.

If I were to summarize the last three weeks of my life, I would say that I have pushed beyond my own comfort zone, opened myself up to possibilities and felt extremely vulnerable...and have gotten bitten on the ass more times that I can count.  My personality and commitment preclude me performing a task or behaving only half-way, and so I put myself at greater emotional and physical risk.

Oh, I play a good game of acting like all is fine and dandy, that beyond the little things that characterize day-to-day with a toddler I function, most of the times happily.  But being a parent is hard, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, and a single mother with no family support system in the country is even harder. Some days are better, and some periods of time try the very core of my being. 

If I were being honest with myself, I would venture a guess that having immediate family in the country would not be as helpful as I might imagine, and about which I fantasize on a regular basis. 

A highly intelligent and independent business woman, an experienced and trained doctor falling victim to the failing global economic crisis, even harder, especially since I am the sole provider and wage earner in this house.

(Our new Finance Minister, the handsome and yet vacant-headed Yair Lapid, ran on a platform of easing the existence of the poor and the middle class in Israel. Meanwhile, one of his first acts include raising VAT, a move which will directly and most negatively impact the poor and middle class in Israel.  I will either have to raise my prices and lose clients, or keep the status quo office fees and pay more for everything else, leaving even less income in my pocket.)

My body image has also suffered a blow, with the recent break-up from my boyfriend and because quite simply, my abdominal area is hardly swimsuit ready.  So I could join a gym and start running and swimming again, but my concerns about our finances makes me feel like this membership represents a luxury, a privilege I cannot afford.  With a lack of reliable baby sitters, I would only be able to work out during the day when Raphaela attends Gan, and thus I would not enjoy myself and relax into the workout, because I would be thinking about the patients I am not seeing and the money I am not earning at that time in the gym.  To quote my sixth grade teacher from New York, "It's a vicious cycle." (Actually, if memory serves me correctly, my teacher was talking about head lice, but no matter.)

Then, last night, at the Bar Mitzvah of the son of a old and dear friend, Raphaela spent the first hour of the event making it difficult for me to carry on any uninterrupted adult conversation.  When she saw that we would not be leaving for home when she requested, during the beginning of the dancing, she spent five minutes throwing up on the floor, a stream of tomatoes and other appetizers she had eaten.  I think it even surprised her, the strength of will she employed to bring on the vomiting;  she said to me in wonder and amazement, "Mommy, a waterfall of tomatoes just came out of my mouth, how does that happen?"

Mission accomplished, Raphaela won, we left the Bar Mitzvah quickly, slipping out the side door because of my embarrassment and shame, with me feeling like I cannot hold it together as a mother or as a woman.

I am tired of the struggle.  I wish I had the luxury to choose something different, I wish I didn't feel so stuck and so frustrated, like such a failure.

Second Class Single Mothers

Last month, the Israeli paper Maariv highlighted an essential flaw in the Bituach Leumi [Israeli Social Security] system:  their charter was written in the 1950's, long before the phenomenon of single mothers by choice because an accepted reality.  Practically speaking, it means that single mothers by choice and their children receive less benefits than women who are divorced or widowed, though we all pay the same amount into the fund on a monthly basis.

I have now personally experienced this flaw.  At the beginning of the year, Raphaela's Gan posted a list of all those families eligible for a discount in tuition;  divorced, widowed, student etc. If you could bring a letter from  your doctor proving that you suffered from chronic hiccups you got a discount.  No where on that list mentioned single mothers by choice, and so on the advice of the manager of the Gan, I put in a special request, stating that I have no family in the country and that I am solely responsible for financing our little family unit. I further stated that I saw no difference between myself and a divorced woman raising her children alone; in fact, even a divorcee gets some child support from her ex-husband.

Eight months later... the Board of the Gan informed me that they had refused my request, stating no particular reason other than, "Denied."  While I felt disappointment, the manager of the Gan was enraged and is determined to appeal their decision.  She asked me to sit with her this morning, so she could write a letter to the Chair of the Board, "a letter that will make then sob their heart out and give me some reduction in tuition."

I appreciate her support, though I hold no high hopes for the bureaucracy to change its mind.  The law on the books in Israel must catch up with the reality of the 21rst century family.

Nayot Park

On Friday night after dinner, Raphaela had energy to burn;  since it was still so warm outside, I took her for a walk and we ended up at the park near our house.  Unfortunately, the Municipality of Jerusalem has not invested sufficiently in the lighting of the area, and as it got darker, Raphaela hit her head against one of the metal beams of the climbing facility.  There was blood and bruising, and I picked her with the intention of rushing her home to better examine the injury.

(In the pitch dark, with a small flash light...) An Arab family had set up a small barbecue at one of the picnic tables nearby, and they invited the two of us to sit with them while Raphaela applied some ice to her nose.  Their hospitality did not end there, they also gave the two of us drinks and began to insist that we share their feast with them.

I politely declined, stating that we had already eaten and that I really wanted to get Raphaela home to see if we needed to get to the Emergency Room.  They understood, and as we started walking slowly, one of the women came over to me and gave me two pita sandwiches, with humus and hamburgers, "for the road."

(I do love and respect the gift of food they offered, though in the end we did not eat it for my own reasons of Kosher.)

I thanked her profusely for her generosity, and felt humbled by the experience; it reminded me that above and beyond all the boxes in which we put ourselves, our Jewish neighbors and our Arab cousins, behind all the politics stands real families with simple aspirations.  Some of them are in fact kind people who simply want to make a decent living and support their family, have a nice meal and watch their kids play in the park on a warm night in Jerusalem.

Meanwhile, we arrived home and I managed to stop the bleeding, I purposely put Raphaela in my bed and did not sleep all night, listening to her breathe and making sure there were no immediate and serious complications from her wounds.  First thing tomorrow morning I plan on calling the Municipality and giving them an earful.  It is absolutely irresponsible to not provide lighting in a public park - said the paranoid New Yorker with memories of Central Park - not only for the children but also for the adult runners like me who use that pathway at all hours of the morning and evening.  If our taxes don't contribute to citizens' safety, where is the money going?

Israeli Election Day 2013

Because of the Knesset elections, all public institutions - Gan, the post office, banks, government offices - are closed and the day has become a middle-of-the-week holiday.  Many people went traveling up North, and based upon the news report I saw on television last night, a large number of these citizens don't particularly care to end their vacation early in order to vote.

As a political science major at Barnard College and as a human being who generally throws herself gladly into the arena of Democracy, I think this voter apathy is a shame and an embarrassment.  These same families who choose a hike over the gift of choosing the next Prime Minister will be the first to complain once the election ends.

The Israeli system can seem baffling if you have grown up with the American version of voting.  First off, it is considered most impolite and practically a violation of your personal rights if you ask a person whether he voted for Obama or Romney;  but on the streets of Jerusalem this morning, every conversation in which I was involved or overheard started with the sentence, "So, who got your ballot today?" With a 15% Undecided coming into the elections, that question became much more interesting than usual.

Secondly, America pretends at direct elections, but then starts with the bullshit of the Electoral College, compounded by Blue and Red states.  So for example, when I voted this past November, it didn't really matter because I am registered in Massachusetts, Seriously Blue territory, and it was obvious that Obama would take the state and its delegates even if no one showed up at the polls.

In Israel they have direct elections in the sense that you vote for a party list.  You cannot choose the list per se, though as a registered member of a party you can vote in the primaries.  A designated price per seat is assigned, and literally each vote is counted toward that goal;  private deals have been negotiated for the 'spare change' so to speak.  In order to sit in the Knesset, your party must receive enough votes to account for at least two mandates out of 120;  if you fail to pass the threshold, your party disappears into oblivion.

The party with the most seats almost automatically gets the nod for forming the government, which then deteriorates into an ugly and expensive series of back room meetings, until the sitting government can claim a majority of at least 61 out of the total 120 seats.

The procedure itself dates back to the Byzantine Era, you stand behind a flimsy piece of card board, you choose a little piece of paper that represents your list and put it in a blue envelope.  The blue envelope goes into a blue box, and at the end of voting at ten pm, a bunch of really dedicated and really tired people count them by hand.

Based upon recent polls, Netanyahu's sitting Likud-Russian Mafia party will most surely receive the most seats, although less than they had anticipated.  They will then most likely form their majority government with other similar leaning parties (The Jewish Home), at least one despicable Ultra Orthodox party (Shas), and maybe, if they have the balls, one Center-Left party (Yair Lapid, Labour). In other words, silly business as usual.

For myself, I quite enjoyed the day off with Raphaela, we walked in the spectacular Summer-like weather to the voting station; sat at our favorite bakery and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast; Mommy got a haircut while Raphaela cooperated more than I ever imagined;  and then we went to the mall and bought our weekly groceries.  We spent the afternoon playing together and taking walks around the neighborhood, grabbing the sun shine wherever we could find it.

Raphaela has become such an active and real person, she has a brilliant sense of humor (for a three year old) and a calm happy disposition.  I feel like I won the biggest lottery in the Universe, and I am thankful for the time we had today to spend with each other.

Gan 2013-14

When I was pregnant, I received all sorts of advice from all sorts of people, mostly along the lines of "You won't sleep for the next 18 years, until they go into the army, and then you definitely won't sleep."  While I have found the sleep thing to be true thus far, I would advise future parents that the early childhood care-taking situation and his/her education will not just keep you awake at night, but will make you want to cry.

Last year I erroneously allowed myself to get trapped in three months worth of list making and obsessive thoughts regarding Gan;  I have promised myself that this year the process will be quick and clean and simple.  I am looking for a place that is close to the house, has a good reputation among local parents, feels light and spacious, and has services until approximately four in the afternoon.  This morning before work I wandered up and down throughout my neighborhood, checked out four different nursery schools and now have options in my head with which I am comfortable and basically happy.

The big question mark remains the reformation from the Jerusalem Municipality, changes in the afternoon schedule that begin in February 2013:  the price of the two to four pm time slot ("Tzaharon") will decrease dramatically, and they promise what they call a "hot meal"  every day.  The Municipality however refuses to reveal the intended menus, and Raphaela's lunch may well become a sandwich and perhaps a hot vegetable, as opposed to the fully hot and protein filled lunches she currently receives.

From the moment of her birth, my daughter has been an "Eater," and a sandwich will simply not be enough to get her through the day.

So I've made my list, I will check it twice. I would like to think that it is a sign of my maturity and increasing experience as an Israeli parent, this new sense of calm and acceptance.  Either that, or I am simply a naive American who made aliyah 16 years ago, and wishes to believe that it has to work out for the best.

Israeli Politics

Among the multitude of political parties on the slate for January 2013's Israeli elections, two parties not only have no women on their list, but have no intention of placing women on their list, not even in a symbolic location (120/120).  I will not name these two parties, but I will give you a hint:  they treat women and anyone else as second and third class citizens, they leech from the government and spit on the modern State of Israel; and they justify their abhorrent behaviour saying that essentially, God likes them better because they are Ultra Orthodox,and therefore they have a divine right to treat other humans like garbage, even their own wives and mothers and sisters and daughters. 

Today some enraged Israeli citizens, feminist and otherwise, filed a suit to disqualify these two parties from the general election in January.  When asked to explain themselves, Shas and Yahadut Hatorah (oops, I told...)  replied that in denying the women of their movement a voice, they are following the Torah!  "In the halacha, men have certain roles and women have a different role."

The bulls**t meter is reading high on this one.

Unfortunately, living in Israel has jaded me against the general behaviour of the Ultra Orthodox community, and just this morning, a patient and I - both tolerant and modern Orthodox women -had a conversation on the topic, in which we agreed:  the Ultra Orthodox have as much right as anyone else to move into a neighborhood and expect certain services ie take it over and push out anyone not like you.  But as a citizen of Israel and the world, be a Mensch;  serve in the army, pay taxes on legitimate work instead of the grey market, support the government instead of cursing its existence and throwing stones at Israeli policemen.

These Ultra-Orthodox parties claim racism and bias, that the 'white folk' treat them unfairly.  As one of their so-called second class and a Barnard College graduate, I can say with assurance that the reception they receive is equally proportional to their actions.

Keeping Children Out of Harm's Way

This morning in Raphaela's Gan, as we were walking in the door (late again, because of jet lag...) I observed a scene between two of the children fighting over a puzzle. The boy slapped the girl in the face and then moved to the other side of the table, with the puzzle, and the girl put her head on the table and started crying.  The teacher had not seen the beginning of the event, and assumed that the girl was crying because she could not share the toy, and as the teacher opened her mouth to chastise her, I could not help myself and whispered quietly, "She is crying because he hit her and then took the puzzle away from her."

The teacher then had to revise her intended actions, and began the negotiations of the boy apologizing to the girl, and the girl getting cuddles and reassurance.

I can't help myself, really, especially if I see injustice being done to a child.

I received a phone call yesterday which challenged this personality flaw even further.  Ten years ago, after much internal deliberation, I reported a female patient of mine to Israeli Social Services, because I had the proof I needed that she suffered from Munchhausen by Proxy, that she was injuring at least two of her children because of this bizarre and sad disease.  I reported her with the proviso that the patient not be told who summoned Social Services, because I could not trust this woman to behave in a rational way if she had found out that I was the informant.

Unfortunately, the Social and Child Protection Services in this country lack the resources to take proper and long term action.  They sent an inexperienced social worker over to the house, who after a short interview, came to the conclusion that the children of the household were not susceptible to any immediate and severe danger to their physical or emotional health, and did not need to be removed from the home.

Shortly after, I told this patient that I felt I could not provide the Chiropractic care she truly needed, and referred her out to a colleague.

Yesterday she called me for the first time since the incident, asking if she could return to me as a patient, and I felt severely conflicted.  It was clear even from her speech on the phone that she continues to behave in an irrational way as regards her health, and that her paranoia is alive and well as regards the world at large.  Clearly I cannot treat her with an open mind and heart, and I don't know how to explain this to her without arising anger on her part.

She suffers from a serious mental disorder, and if she chooses not to get help for herself, Gesundheit!  (as my great-grandmother used to say)  But I know that she hurt her children and her family, and that I cannot abide.

The Seat of Power

For today's field trip, after the kids and my brother and sister-in-law returned from their normal (non vacation) day, we all crowded into the car and drove into Washington DC itself, the capital of these United States.  The last time I had toured this area, I was a seventh grade student on a class trip, meeting our New York local representative on the States of the Capitol.

Because both the House and the Senate were out of session, Raphaela and her two older cousins were able to run and play along the entire concourse of the Capitol Building, right up to the main stairs.  It was a joyous event for them on this Fall day, and watching Raphaela break out of her usual clingy routine and run almost so far that I couldn't see her, watching her jump up and down the stairs and laugh, I could not ask for anything more.

It would be a far different story if we were at home in Jerusalem, waiting for the next siren.

I must also admit that having been outside a large urban area for the past 16 years, and with my political science side dormant, it was such an electric turn on to walk past these edifices of government and power.  It is here, in a place like Washington, that you feel that there are little people collectively making big decisions, and the architecture reflects the seriousness of the responsibility.  And while Jerusalem has the Knesset and the Courts, more of the decisions are made in back rooms and small meetings; the architecture of my home is warm Jerusalem stone.

(This morning when Raphaela woke up on Jet Lag time, 2:30 am, she looked outside the window of the house and exclaimed, "Look Mommy, a big tree!  And another tree, and some more trees!  And big piles of leaves on the grass!")

Along the way during our children's walking tour of the city, we all got ice cream - I chose a long time favorite, a Good Humor Classic Ice Cream Sandwich- and then proceeded to the Hirshorn Museum, where I saw the astoundingly artistic and politically provocative Ai WeiWei sculpture exhibit.  My brother (not the art gallery fan) enjoyed it less, and chose instead to watch the kids in the lobby.

We rounded out the day on the famous Carousel, looking toward the setting sun on Washington's Monument.  In the car ride home, before Raphaela fell asleep, all three kids engaged in a lively round of "Old McDonald," with Raphaela adding in her own spin and humor: "Old McDonald had a Volcano." (With a "shake shake" here and a "shake shake" there...)  The mood was so infectious that we all joined in.

When we did a  round of "What did you enjoy best today," my niece and nephew said without hesitation, "Ice Cream!"  Raphaela responded, unprompted, "My Mommy."

There was one uncomfortable event, when my four year old nephew took off running down a busy street in DC, to the point where it was difficult to see him and it appeared that he was about to walk into the intersection by himself.  As a mother, and especially as a parent raising a child on the crazy driver streets of Jerusalem, I immediately shouted out that he had to stop and wait for us.  Later, it appeared that my sister-in-law was annoyed that I had not trusted him to be safe, that his independent spirit had been compromised. I immediately apologized if I had overstepped my authority and explained that I did not want to see him hurt, that it was not him that I did not trust but rather drivers who do not pay enough attention.

Travel Log I

Two days before we left for the States, Israel killed a top level Hamas leader.

One hour before our taxi arrived to take us to the airport, I checked facebook to discover that my country had gone to battle, bombing multiple locations in Gaza to defend the right of its citizen to live without a constant barrage of missiles.

I can't stand the idea that I am leaving Israel as she goes to war.

Ten minutes before the taxi arrived, standing outside in the Jerusalem cold at two in the morning, Raphaela decided that she needed to pee, and before we even got to the airport, I changed her into her spare airplane outfit.  This did not bode well.

The Nesher taxi took the extremely long and winded route, and what should have been a 35 minute drive in the middle of the night turned into close to an hour and a half.

Three hours spent waiting at Ben Gurion for the flight.
Four hour flight to Vienna, terrible food.
One hour transfer to second flight, Vienna to Washington DC, delayed because the plane has not yet received the approval of the engineering flight crew.
Eleven hour flight in small seats and poor quality ear phones, so Raphaela and I watch movies without sound, and I don't lip read.  I had miscalculated the time change between Israel and the rest of the world, so at a certain point I started wondering why the captain had not announced that we should put on our seat belts in preparation for our descent.  When the gentleman sitting behind me told me that we had two more hours, I wanted to scream.
Factor in the seven hour time difference between Israel and the East Coast, and the approximately two hour wait to get off the plane and out of Dulles Airport, followed by an hour ride to my brothers in traffic.

Way too many hours for my taste, now I know why we haven't come to the US to visit family in three years.

Thank G-d for all the snacks I packed in our carry-on, and for the ipad, which kept Raphaela entertained.

Most traumatic check in event:  twice, in Israel and then again in Vienna, the security people insisted on ripping Raphaela's doll out of her hands so it could be x-rayed, because a small stuffed animal is obviously suspect.  My daughter twice collapsed on the floor in tears, and quite frankly, I didn't blame her in the least for holding up the line.

Most annoying behaviour from Raphaela, other than the fact that she didn't sleep for more than two hours the entire journey:  at a certain point, I was literally too tired to keep my eyes open.  I had essentially been awake and functional since Wednesday morning.  As soon as I would doze off and immediately to into REM sleep, Raphaela would poke me and say, "Boo!" (like in her swim class) and inform me that I was not allowed to close my eyes.

I love my child, but after 36 hours in transit, I need to sleep, badly.

First, must peel off the clothing I have been wearing for the last day and a half, take a shower and wash off Airport Cooties.

Jerusalem of Gold

This morning, after dropping off Raphaela at Gan, I looked at the phenomenal view from my neighborhood:  the Israel Museum, the Knesset, the stupid expensive cable bridge, and all the other buildings in the horizon still twinkled with the early morning golden sunlight.  And I thought to myself with a contended smile on my face, "This is my home."

I took a virtual snapshot in my head, to carry the image with me on our trip to the States.

This afternoon when I picked Raphaela up from Gan, I saw that the nursery teachers had arranged an impromptu party for my daughter instead of the usual three o'clock snack time.  They were explaining as I entered the room that Raphaela would be going on a plane and would not be in Gan for a little bit of time, that they would all miss her and wait for her safe return.  As we left the class room, all the children threw kisses in our direction, and it moved me to tears.  In fact I had a hard time leaving Gan today, because that is Raphaela's second home, and it has become a place of happiness and loving kindness.

Almost sixteen years after moving to Israel from America, I feel more Israeli inside than ever, and though I look forward to Raphaela meeting her extending family this Thanksgiving trip, I know that it is a short two weeks and then I return to place where my heart belongs.

We return just in time for Chanukah, the Festival of Lights.

Matters of Perspective

One more week before we are meant to travel to the States for Thanksgiving.  I, or rather the nerdy girl in me who always hated missing even one day of class, sat with her teacher today and asked essentially how I could make up for the loss of "material" about Chanukah that Raphaela would miss while we are away.

Her Head Nursery Teacher, who recently lost her 91 year old mother to prolonged illness and old age.

Meanwhile, our actual Thanksgiving plans remain in the Undecided category;  the original plan included a festive meal with cousins (in Long Island) and Shabbat with my sister (in Long Island).  Due to Hurricane Sandy, my cousin does not have electricity, and my sister cannot live in her house. 

An Ultra-Orthodox mother of five and due to give birth in December to her sixth child, my sister and her family lost their car and the entire first floor of their house to the flooding.

Not Undecided is the American Public, who go to the polls today in an atmosphere of a dead-heat between Romney and Barack Hussein Obama.  Will it be the Muslim or the Mormon who wins the day?  Is there ever really a candidate who likes Israel, or just likes getting that bloc of votes?  What effect will Hurricane Sandy and its terrible aftermath have on the election?  When do the Americans get smart and abolish the Electoral College?  And how many lawyers are gearing up as we speak to fight the inevitable recounts and State-by-State law suits?

Hey, that's a thought, maybe my Absentee Ballot will count this year, for a change.

Relative Age-ism

I distinctly remember the phrase, "You know you are old..." floating around during the entire process of my fertility treatments, because in Israel - considered planetary experts on bringing children into the world - any woman over the age of 35 should have decreased expectations regarding a healthy and normal pregnancy.

Now, a joint committee of the Israeli Fertility Association and the Maternal Fetal Medicine has issued a report in which they recommend that any woman over 45 be considered "high-risk" to the extreme, and that these women undergo a whole slew of extra monitoring throughout the pregnancy.  This gamut of testing would specifically target any woman undergoing IVF, but views all such females over the age of 45 as having a higher risk for blood pressure, diabetes and obesity issues, not to mention a statistical increase in multiple births and children with disabilities.  Women over 50 would be further subjected to heart function tests and screening for cancer.

The oldest woman to ever give birth in Israel was a 64 year old, who utilized both egg donation and IVF in 2004, and acted against both Israeli and international policy.

There is a fine line in medicine between facilitation and Big Brother tactics, and the larger question must be debated regarding the role of the hospitals and the government in deciding which women are "allowed" to enter into pregnancy, regardless of potential health risks.

It's So Third Grade

This week, the mayor of Modiin Ilit [an Ultra Orthodox enclave bordering a Modern Orthodox and very homogeneous Modiin, in the center of Israel] declared that only the Ultra Orthodox could visit the Second Temple archaeological site within their borders.  They would in fact deny entry and/or evict any person who did not fit their mold, who did not look like they belonged and therefore did not deserve to enter the area.

In retribution, the mayor of Modiin declared that all Ultra Orthodox would be banned from the public parks in his city.

Apparently this conflict stems from the desire of Modiin Ilit to become incorporated into Modiin, to take advantage of their resources, and the refusal of Modiin to accept them legally or otherwise.

But seriously, how old are we?  So now Modiin Ilit is not going to invite its sister city to its birthday party?  Modiin says that Modiin Ilit has the cooties?!

Last night, someone asked me what I held against those who became more religious, and I replied that I respect people's choices, as long as it doesn't hurt others and as long as the intentions come from a place of self-improvement.  This story of local civil war provides yet another example where religious extremism reigns, to the detriment of all.

The Rights of the Non Father

Very often, people will ask me questions about the process at Hadassah Hospital and their affiliation with the sperm bank, run by the very capable and discrete Ruth.  Inevitably, the follow up question is some version of, "Do you want another child, and can you use the same donor, so that Raphaela and her sibling will be related?'

The Israeli High Court of Justice may soon make a ruling that will define that critical issue in fertility treatments;  since Israel is on the cutting of fertility technology, they also tend to deal with cases that will set precedent for all the globe.

An Israeli woman currently living in the States bought all the 'product' of a particular donor, so that her daughter may have a sibling who is biologically related.  The donor, having become more religious since making the deposit, has decided that he does not want to father any other children anonymously, and has demanded that the sperm bank destroy whatever is left, despite the fact that the woman paid for it and technically owns it.

The reasoning behind the donor, and the State of Israel's legal position, is that the donor's right not to be a father against his will is stronger than the recipient's wish to have children who are biological siblings.  The donor has the right to change his mind.

The woman challenged the initial ruling, stating that the decision was unreasonable and "damaged her rights 'as a woman, an individual, a mother and a signatory of an agreement.' "  (Haaretz, Ronny Linder-Ganz, "Court to rule if sperm donor can renege" July 13, 2012)  She argues further that her case has repercussions for both married and single women who are considering using fertility treatments, and may feel the pressure to act sooner, before the donor flips his decision.

To quote Stan Lee, with great power comes great responsibility, and the medical world will surely be looking at this Israeli case for guidance.