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:

Money Matters

Yesterday Raphaela had a day off from school; yes, yet another Jewish holiday in the series for the month of May.  We met up with cousins in the morning for breakfast, and then took advantage of International Free Museum Day.

For whatever reason, Raphaela seemed fixated on the topic of money and personal finances the entire day.

As we waited for the bus, Raphaela asked me what kind of grand celebration I had received when I turned 12.  I told her that when I was that age, no one made a big deal about girls, and other than a pretty standard birthday party in our backyard, the event came and went.  She seemed shocked and sad for me, because, she explained, I didn't get loads of presents.  Then she said, "Don't worry Mommy, when I have my Bat Mitzvah you can make me a fantastic party, and give me lots of presents."

When I took out coins to pay for the bus, Raphaela asked me where money comes from, and how did I (personally) have money to spend. I explained to her that I work very hard, and that I get paid for helping people feel better, and then I have money to take care of us.  Raphaela, proud of herself and her future earning capacity, told me that when she gets older she is going to be a Veterinarian.

"That's wonderful, " I said, "but right now you are a little girl who doesn't work. Your work is to go to school and learn great things, play with your friends and do your homework.  And you are too young to baby sit."  Then I explained the concept of an allowance, that if she does her specific jobs around the house all week, she will earn money, and she can then spend on herself or save toward something bigger.

Raphaela loved that idea, and starting next week, we have a chore chart.

When we met our cousins, my very Israeli daughter asked them how much money they make and basically, what is their net worth.  With a nervous giggle, I stopped Raphaela and explained to her that the question was not polite, and that it is really none of our business how much anyone else earns, or where they spend it.

Another life lesson for her to check off the list.

The New Synagogue

For several years now I have avoided regularly attending the synagogue right down the street, despite the fact that many of Raphaela's classmates play there during the services.  This particular congregation takes a very conservative view on families, and as a single mother I have never felt welcome there.

Recently, Raphaela has asked that we try the synagogue that meets in her school building; I don't think my daughter has a real interest in the prayers per se, one of her best friends goes there, and it is another opportunity for them to play.

Today we braved the horrible heat and walked there, Raphaela immediately found a few of her friends and disappeared in play.  I noticed that most of the other married women there did not cover their hair; and that when the Torah was being put away, the scroll was passed to the women's section in the most natural and accepting way.

Statistically speaking, there were more children than adults, and they made a real effort to encourage each new person to come back next week as we build this community together.

I may have found a place I like, after all this time.

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.

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.

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.

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.

36 Grown-Up Hours

For the first time since Raphaela was born, she stayed with my parents (who were visiting from the US) over Shabbat, and I stayed home, alone, with no one to care for other than myself and marginally, our cat Harry.

Friday

On the way to school, half way down the block, a man called to me.  I turned around and did not recognize him, he had just dropped his little boy off at a nursery near our house.  He said to us, "I see you and your daughter walking to school every morning. I am headed in that direction, to that school, do you want a ride?"

"No thank you," I said. Because I know that Raphaela is very possessive of our time together in the morning, and because it is a beautiful sunny day, atypical for Jerusalem in February.

After we came home from school in the afternoon, I asked for Raphaela's help in packing the overnight bag, and showed her all her clothing and her toothbrush and hair accessories. "And WHY," she asked with suspicion, "will you not be able to take care of these things yourself?"

I had put off telling her that I would not be joining the rest of the family on this sleepover party, and could not avoid it any longer. I explained that she would have special bonding time with her cousin and her grandparents, and that I would pick her up after Shabbat.

Holding back tears, Raphaela and I chose a special doll that she would take with her, to remind her that I am always with her and always love her, no matter where I am.  That seemed to do the trick.

Friday Afternoon

After dropping Raphaela off at my parents and driving home, I could actually feel my stomach drop a little. It felt odd, it felt wrong for the house to be so quiet, for me to have not much of anything to do for anyone.  For the first time in six years I had free time without responsibility, and I had no idea what to do with myself.

Apparently, motherhood has altered my identity and my essential state of being, and there's no going back.

Friday Night

Dinner with friends, with good food and a very good bottle of red wine to share.  I would estimate that half of the conversation that I contributed to the evening somehow involved my daughter, not counting the people who said, "Too bad Raphaela is not here, I haven't seen her in a while."

I call that the "Mother of" Phenomenon:  since I gave birth, my name (and that of all mothers to children in Israel) became "Raphaela's Mother," even amongst the parents of her classmates. In Israel, where family values take precedence above all, you are defined by your relatives and most especially your children.

Shabbat Morning

I can do it!  And more miraculously, Harry can do it!  My cat (whom I have had longer than Raphaela) who usually wakes me up at the crack of dawn, let me sleep in until 8:30 am.   I have not slept past six am in years, and I did not think my body remembered how.  Of course, it meant that I missed the party at my friend's house for International Ice Cream for Breakfast Day.

Shabbat Day

I finally got into the groove, stopped feeling guilty, and of all the activities I did today, perhaps the most inspiring was the five kilometer plus hike around Jerusalem. I didn't have to pack a picnic lunch (Raphaela needs snacks when we go on trips), just myself and my sneakers and my bottle of water.  I walked through the park, felt the sun on my face, smiled at random people and generally remembered why it feels so good to get some exercise into my life.

I had been waiting for that push to return to an intensive training program for the Jerusalem Marathon in March, and now I have it.  That adrenaline also reminded me that I must take care of myself and my body, if I want to stick around for a long and healthy life, and watch Raphaela grow into her full potential.

Saturday Night

I needed time away from Raphaela in order to miss her, in order to understand how we fit into each other, even when we are apart.  The closer it got to the end of Shabbat, the more I started going back into Mom mode, thinking about how she has school tomorrow, and hoping that the weekend passed without incident.

I feel truly grateful that my parents were able to take Raphaela for her first ever sleep over, she enjoyed the time with her family, and I was able to have this time to myself.

As soon as she saw me she started crying and fell into my arms, saying that she missed me; my father said that she had been 100% until I walked in the door. It's nice to be missed.

The Shiva Crashers

Growing up in the United States, Shiva [the seven day period of mourning] was a serious adult deal, quite formal in its rules and code of behavior.  Even when my great-grandfather died, I did not attend the funeral or the Shiva, because it was not a place for children.  And I was old enough to know that he was gone.

This past week, the 92 year old father of one of our neighbors died, and the Shiva is taking place quite literally next door.  Every time we leave the house to go to school or to ballet, the door is open and the sign on the door declares that this is a house of mourning.

The first day of the Shiva, I told Raphaela that we were going there not to entertain, but to sit quietly and take our cue from our neighbor. If he wanted to talk, fine, and if not we would sit there out of respect.  Well, Israel being Israel, Jerusalem being Jerusalem, and this being the Jewish country, apparently the law of One Extended Family applies.

At our first visit, Raphaela spoke less than her normal self, but was still warm and engaging, and as we left, she gave him a big hug.  She also left with a glass of juice and piece of cake, kindly given to Raphaela by the mourner's wife.  And every day since, every time we pass the door, Raphaela insists upon going inside for even a minute, to say hello and to deliver one of her patented hugs;  to show him a shiny rock she has just found, or to perform the dance she has just learned.

My Israeli friends tell me that in this country the process of Shiva is far less formal, and that it is "lovely" that Raphaela has made it her mission to cheer up our mourning neighbor.  They cite many examples where the Shiva evolves into a celebration of life and family, a place where smiles and stories are welcome.  I am still uncomfortable with the behavior to some degree, it is the stiff New England American in me, despite the 18 plus years I have lived here.

Far be it from me, however,  to teach Raphaela that compassion toward another person should be limited, in thought or in deed.

Stories from the Parenting Front

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life without Cher

My car, Cher, is almost 16 years old, but because I don't have much of a commute to work, she has less than 55,000 km on her speedometer.

Two weeks ago, I took Cher to the garage for her annual routine Winter Check Up, and she passed.  I mentioned to the mechanic that I had a suspicion that there was an electrical issue somewhere, one that only manifested intermittently;  they did a diagnostic and found nothing.

This past Friday, I decided to drive Raphaela to school rather than walk, because I had several errands - a doctor's appointment, the supermarket, the bakery etc.- during the morning, all in different parts of town.  Cher would not start up, dead in the water except for the horrid blinking light that said "SERVICE." I did whatever I could by foot, and the rest, whatever. It was the day before Shabbat and it didn't pay to take care of it, when she could just sit in the parking space anyway over the weekend.

This morning I called a tow truck and at this moment, my baby is on it's way to what Raphaela calls the Car Doctor.  I don't know how much the repair will cost, but it will most certainly take a chunk out of my budget; believe me, if I could afford it, I would buy a new car.

I am ashamed and sad to admit that I have become dependent on Cher, my life and my daughter's even busier life demands wheels.  This morning was so cold outside that I could not imagine having to walk to school, and asked a friend from the class to take Raphaela in their car.

As a sample week, here are the thing that will become much more difficult if we must depend on public transportation, not to mention the added danger of bus stops with the Third Intifada in full swing:

Ballet Lesson (tonight)
School in the cold-inside-your-bones weather (today, tomorrow)
Camp (Tuesday, Wednesday)
Day trips for Chanukah (Thursday, next Sunday and Monday)
Supermarket (At some point, we have to eat)
Family Chanukah party (Thursday)
Long weekend of vacation that I am desperate for, that we have both been looking forward to for such a long time (Friday through Sunday)

I did not know how much I counted on Cher until she died.

The Beautiful Lights

Last night, the First Grade girls in Evelyna held their Chanukah party, and considering the 31 children plus parents in the room, it went more or less smoothly.

Their teacher talked about the creation of the world, and how God created a special light, but then didn't know where to put it.  Upon consultation with the angels, God placed a piece of this special light into each person, deep inside so that only those who were actively searching for it would find it;  "because many people don't bother to look and examine deep inside themselves," said the teacher.  Then she thanked each of the girls in her class for manifesting that truly special light.

The Principal also spoke, and pointed out that while gravity on Earth will pull most things down (as he dropped his iPhone to the floor, ouch!), the flame of a fire defies these basic rules of physics and reaches upward, toward the heavens.  Then he as well said that each of these girls are lights, always reaching upward and always lighting the way with their camaraderie.

And indeed, I saw it with my own eyes.  At one point the teacher was leading an activity in which she sang a (very long) song about all the Chesed [good deeds in Hebrew] that we can do for each other, and every time she tapped a child on the head, they were meant to open a little flash light and wave it around.  It was dark in the room and she was not utilizing any particular system of order, patting heads haphazardly,  and ultimately she skipped over Raphaela.

Raphaela said nothing.

After putting on the lights of the classroom and starting to move on, one of the other girls in the class got up and pulled on the teachers shirt and said, "You forgot Raphaela!"  Whereupon  the teacher immediately shut off the lights, made special notice of my daughter and had all the children wave their flash lights together.

Afterwards I was talking to the teacher and she told me that Raphaela thanks her every day, for the lessons and the affection and the effort put into guiding these girls.  The teacher told me how impressed she was that Raphaela can say "thank you" and can make others feel genuinely appreciated.

Thank you, Raphaela, for making me proud.

A Turkey-Free Thanksgiving

Normally we get together with three other families to celebrate Thanksgiving in Jerusalem; this year did not work out, and so Raphaela and I had to come up with an alternative plan.

For the past few months, Raphaela has chosen vegetarianism, not out of ideology or philosophy, but rather as an active protest against the Jewish laws of milk and meat.  Raphaela resents that she must wait three hours after eating a meat meal, that an outside authority is preventing her from having, let's say, a piece of milk chocolate as dessert.

Thus her refusal to eat anything but dairy products and fish and salads, and my need to become quite creative when it comes to her school lunches, and our dinners at home.

Thus for Thanksgiving we had sushi instead of turkey and stuffing, leaving plenty of yummy dairy options for dessert.  Then we got into pajamas, settled in front of a video with a big bowl of popcorn, and started our Israeli non-meat version of Thanksgiving festivities.

Despite her having school tomorrow, we will stay up late and enjoy our holiday, because hey, it's Thanksgiving, a day of gratitude and family.

(We will attend in spirit the wedding of Sara Litman, the daughter of a recent terror victim.  She and her fiancé Ariel Beigel have invited the entire country of Israel, actually any Jew from all over the world, to attend the dancing at their wedding celebration, which was postponed when she had to sit shiva for her father and her brother.  The event will take place at one of the largest convention centers in Jerusalem, so that all can join them at this joyous event.  A company in Israel has bought the couple a car as a surprise gift, and people from around the world have contributed to a fund in their name.  Gotta love how Jews come together when it matters.)

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.

The Reality from Jerusalem, Israel

I am not going to delve into the political, historical and religious underpinnings of the current Blood Libel/Pogrom/Intifada that is currently taking place all over Israel, compounded by the irresponsible and frankly, ridiculously biased treatment of Israel by the American administration, the United Nations and the international media.

I am not going to describe how I feel as a parent, dropping my daughter off at school every day, terrified and wondering if the one armed security guard is actually capable of protecting anyone, as he cannot be in all places at the same time.

Today I spoke to Raphaela's First Grade teacher and asked her if the girls seem to be affected in terms of focus or fears by the events of the past two weeks.  She explained that they had a brief discussion in class, in which they clarified that there are good people and bad people in the world;  they talked about how parents might be asking them to be more aware and more careful, and how maybe it is not the best time to ride on your bike alone and far away from the house these days.

Her teacher explained that she purposely held this forum right before the morning prayers, to emphasize that there is only so much that we can control, only so much that their parents can do to be extra-careful, and that through prayer we put our faith in a higher power, one that is meant to protect us and bring us comfort in the bigger picture.  Thankfully, Raphaela's teacher reported that most of the girls seem to be clueless and as happy-go-lucky as ever.

For my own part, I have not shared the gory and scary details with Raphaela.  She knows that there are people out there today who do not want what is best for Jews, just as there has been throughout our history:  Nimrod (who tried to kill Abraham), Pharaoh (who enslaved and tried to kill the Jewish people), Haman (who tried to wipe out all the Jews under the rule of Persia), Babylon (who destroyed the Temple and exiled most of the Jews from Israel),  Hitler (The Shoah, six million Jews and several other million non-Jews), Idi Amin (Raphaela learned the story of Operation Entebbe), Arabs etc.

As far as Raphaela is concerned, this current state of undeclared war is just a continuation of history, "so let's go to the zoo." Except that the zoo is a wide open space and full of potential targets, so I as a parent do not feel comfortable taking her there. Instead, we have scheduled lots of indoor play dates.  These days we don't dally before and after errands, we do what we must and get home as quickly as possible. 

These days, the streets of Jerusalem are pretty empty, and there is a small canister of pepper spray hiding inside my pocket book.

On the way back from the supermarket this week, five police vans zoomed past us in the other direction of traffic toward one of the multiple attacks of the day, sirens blazing, and my heart sank. I sighed visibly, and Raphaela asked me what was wrong.  I replied that there was lots of traffic, and that I just wanted to get home safely.

The other day, picking up Raphaela from school, a little girl from her class and her older sister seemed to be scared and confused, because the building was closing for the day and their parents were not there yet.  "Don't worry," said her older sister, "we will just walk home by ourselves." I would not allow it, I called their mother and told her that they were coming with me, and that they could stay with us as long as they needed to.

Last night, as Raphaela sat in the bath tub, we could hear the endless stream of helicopters and police and ambulances outside.  Raphaela said, "Oh, so many sirens! Maybe someone is really really sick.  Or maybe a woman is about to give birth and she has to get to the hospital really quickly."

I am OK with that level of denial for now, she's only six years old.  One of us has to sleep at night.

My Future Astronaut

Because I will never get to fulfill my desire to become an astronaut, I remain a proud space geek.  When signs of water were recently discovered on Mars, I excitedly explained this scientific news to Raphaela; where there is water, there is life, and it makes the place practically suitable for humans.

RR:  Why would we want to live on Mars?
Mom:  At the rate that we are going, we are going to need to move to another planet.
RR:  [basically unfazed] Why?
Mom:  We pollute the water we drink, the air we breathe, and the earth in which we grow our food.   Lots of Israelis throw litter on the street. We inject our meat with hormones and then we wonder why we have to work harder to stay healthy.  Al Gore says the planet will be uninhabitable in the year 2050.
RR:  But I love Israel and planet Earth!
Mom:  So do I, but human beings are not treating it so nicely.
RR:  Very well then, we will have to use the water on Mars, and build a house there, and bring a lulav and etrog.  And maybe some of our books and toys.  We need to build a synagogue as well, even though we can talk to God anywhere we like.
Mom:  Sounds like a plan.
RR:  But wait [here comes the panic], does Mars have volcanoes like Earth?
Mom:  I am sure there are some, as Mars is a rock and soil planet like Earth, just with lesser gravity and less access to sunlight.
RR:  Oh, that's not good at all...they are going to have clear out those volcanoes before we go to live there.  Not good at all!
Mom:  Volcanoes are somewhat unpredictable, they don't know exactly when it will erupt.
RR:  Well then, we should invent a cap that we can put on top of all the volcanoes, so the magma will stay inside and not become lava and destroy our colony.

Happy Tears

Though I am not usually one to praise organized religion, I must give credit to the local custom for Simchat Torah [literally translated as "The Joy of the Torah"].

We went to the synagogue down the road from our house, and half her class was there;  she immediately ran off with some of her friends and had me hold the Torah plush toy, which she and many other children in the building had brought to the festivities.

This day of the last day of the Succot holiday specifically celebrates endings and beginnings, the end of the Five Books and the beginning of the cycle with the reading of Genesis.  At a certain point, all the children in the synagogue are invited to stand under the tallit [prayer shawl] and get a blessing, and a prominent gentleman of the synagogue reads from the Torah.

I watched these proceedings from the Women's Section upstairs, and the view made me gasp:  you could not see the floor of the Men's Section as children covered every square inch.  (Like ants at a picnic.)  They sat in chairs and next to the reader and on the stage next at the front of the synagogue, almost 200 little people.

Before you praise their maturity and piety, let me add that they had been promised that if they behaved nicely, they would all receive a three-foot high bag of candies and treats, so these beautiful children had much incentive.

It took five men's tallit to cover the area and the heads of all the children, they said the blessing as a group and listened to the Torah reading, and then the parents sang a special prayer asking G-d and the angels to lead, guide and protect their offspring.

It moved me to tears, this idea of community and continuity, seeing a whole generation before my eyes, the next generation of Israeli children who will lead the way and change the world.

When Raphaela received the ginormous bag of candy as promised, she was moved to tears, "happy tears," as well.

One of the nice aspects of Raphaela's class at Evelyna is the fact that many of her friends live quite literally down the street.

Yesterday, we met one of her friends on a walk, and the girls ran off together to play. Next thing I know she is inviting her self over to their house (Succah) for Shabbat lunch, and several hours later, she returned home, accompanied by her friend's father.  I was involved in approximately zero of these arrangements for a play date.

As well, Raphaela went on and on about the delicious lasagna she ate, and how from now on when I make the same dish she will not reject it.  Lasagna is her new favorite food, and she made particular notice of the fact that she did not "give up" easily and was willing to try something new.  At someone else's house.

I think we experienced an important milestone while I wasn't paying attention.

A Random Day on Vacation in Jerusalem

On the bus this morning, to get Raphaela's new eye glasses, from the center of town

"Mommy, when you were pregnant, did you wish for a boy or a girl baby?"
"Actually I wanted a girl."
"Why?"
"Because I think that girls have more options:  they can be strong and compassionate.  They can be an astronaut or a ballet dancer, without getting judged by society."
"And look at that Mommy, you got your wish, G-d gave you a girl." [Pause for dramatic effect] "Look who is sitting next to you!" [Another pause] "And I am funny too."

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On the way back from town, I suggested that instead of taking the bus home, we should walk, because I felt the need to move, and the swerving of the busses on Jerusalem roads make me nauseous.  I assured Raphaela that it would be easy, because it was downhill all the way home.

We played the Jewish version of "punch buggy," calling out Succot as passed them.

Then we happened to pass by the President's House, and there happened to be a Succot Open House.  Since we didn't have firm vacation plans until the afternoon, we went in and toured the grounds, made a decoration for the President's Succah, drank blue slushies and hung out on his extensive lawn. 

To top it all off, Raphaela got to shake President Ruby Rivlin's hand.

The best times happen when you are not planning or paying attention.