Yom HaZikaron 2011

I don't know how those with piercings in sensitive body parts function normally, these staples are distracting at the least and painful at the most.  Worse, Shaarei Zedek has yet to give me a definitive time and date for their removal, and that keeps me awake at night.

The day started out nicely, Raphaela and her Gan friends dressed in blue and white to celebrate Israel's 63rd birthday one day early, as they are closed for the holiday tomorrow.  After dropping her off, my mother and I attended the brit milah of my neighbor, their first grandchild.  How affirming to spend a day which commemorates sacrifice and death by welcoming into the world and the Jewish people a new life!

At this point in the morning my belly and pelvic area were still doing well, and so my mother and I went to the mall. (I apologize to all Israelis on the road, my mother is indeed a Boston driving hazzard, but I have no choice...) I needed to exchange some of Raphaela's clothing for a larger size, and reward myself for the end of nursing by buying some new bras.  My bra size, along with my overall weight, has reduced so dramatically since Raphaela's birth and the last year and a half of breast feeding, and so it was actually a pleasure to get fitted/groped by the Ex-KGB Female Bra saleswomen.

My mother and I have been bickering on and off since she arrived.  I keep apologizing and saying thank you, even when I want to shout at her, because I need her to look after Raphaela when I am not allowed to hold her, or even change her diaper.  For example, when I was selecting bras, my mother said to the saleswoman (as if I were 12), "Give her an under wire model, she needs it."  I think at the age of 42, I am perfectly capable of making my clothing choices clear, and letting a sales person know which style I prefer, especially when I am paying for it out of my own pocket.

We stood in silence for the two minute siren along with the other shoppers, the life fantastic put on hold to remember those who died protecting us and the dream of a State of Israel.  

The excursion was the last straw for my body.  How terrifying to me that something like one store, or a few small errands have enough impact to shut me down for the rest of the day.

As well, now that we have an assesment from the doctor vis a vis Raphaela's walking and breathing, my mother has found other medical issues upon which to harp, and I keep reminding her that if she trusts me as a parent, and trusts our family doctor, she needs to stop pushing my buttons.  Then comes the speech of "I raised five children, don't tell me you think you know more than I do..."

I believe the problem lies in the patterns that get frozen in our consciousness and experience.  My mother said something to me last night, her observation that I was "always so clinical," that made me realize that she has not fully understood that I am not the dutiful, quiet and quite frankly, miserable teenager I was when I lived in their house.  I have gone out into the world, received an education and traveled, and expanded my acceptance and interactions with others.  Yes, I will make mistakes with myself and my daughter because I am human, but a far different human than the picture of a girl in my mother's head.

For the moment, I try to disengage the tension when we fight, I say, "You know how hard it is for me to feel so unconnected from my body and so dependent on others."  That's my story and I am sticking with it.