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.

Menorah Contest

Raphaela's school announced a contest for all the grades (one through six), to create a menorah out of recycled items.  All the participants will be displayed, and prizes will be awarded.

This afternoon I surveyed the submissions thus far, some were clearly age-appropriate and some were clearly created start to finish by the parents, who must be professional artists, or architects.  One menorah in particular could be sold in stores, or at the Israel Museum shop.

Here is our submission, I would accurately state that Raphaela did most of the work, and I served as an artistic and logistical consultant.

(Materials include a pine cone, the "hats" of acorns, paper, pipe cleaners and an aluminum foil tin. Oh, and googly eyes.)

Every morning we look at our Metropolitan Museum of Art calendar, with a new piece of art/furniture/cultural piece every day.  Today's picture featured a French ball gown from the mid 1800's.  I asked Raphaela if she liked the dress, if it was something she would want to wear.

Raphaela:  Mommy, why didn't you have another baby?  I wish you would make another baby.
Mommy:  What would you do if you had a little brother or sister?
Raphaela:  For starters, if it were a boy, I would wear that dress to his Bar Mitzvah.

Happy Holidays

This morning, with terrific excitement, I reminded Raphaela that today we celebrate Thanksgiving, a holiday left over from my American experience and yet shall be cherished every year, no matter where I live.  Raphaela asked if she was allowed to join in the Turkey Day festivities, as she was born in Israel and not the United States.  I told her that as she has an American passport and a mother born in the US, she is also a dual citizen and should enjoy all rights as such.

Later in the day, an Israeli patient asked me if I had commemorated Christmas in my house, as a child growing up in America.  After all, it has even become accepted among some observant American Jews to take their child Trick-or-Treating;  forgetting all historical background to the holiday IE pogroms and the slaughtering of Jews, kids get to wear costumes and collect free candy.  Harmless, right?

I laughed and pointed out that since my father is an ordained Orthodox Rabbi, it was never an option  to visit Santa at the mall or have a "Chanukah Bush" in our house.  Christmas is all about Saint Nick and Jesus and trampling a stranger to get a cheap X-Box, clearly religious in nature, as opposed to Thanksgiving.  My parents actually did a good job of giving the Jewish holidays throughout the year beauty and significance, without envy or wistfulness for the more Christian and pagan holidays.

That being said, I do have a secret indulgence:  Christmas carols.  They bring me some joy as it reminds me of the warm atmosphere of New York City that month before the holiday, where New Yorkers seemed less cut-throat and more friendly, "Happy Holidays!" wherever you went, skating at Rockefeller Center, the MET tree and the window decorations.

Ahh, nostalgia!

Home Again, Home Again

 

 

From New York to Kansas to Boston to London, we have arrived home, to Jerusalem.  I must admit that I did not want to take my daughter into a war zone, when life in America seems so familiar and so comfortable, superficially easy.  Honestly, I know very few of my friends and family in the United States who wake up each morning and think, "Who is trying to kill me today?"  (There is always a little room for paranoia, especially in New York City...)

 

On Friday morning, jet lag be damned, Raphaela and I went to Palmach street; we dropped off clothing at the dry cleaners, got supplies for Shabbat and restocked the fridge from the supermarket.  Everything and everywhere, Raphaela proclaimed with joy, "That's my Gan!"  "That's my bakery!"  "This is the best day ever, I'm home!"  And I was reminded why it was so important for us to come back to Israel, because in her heart, Raphaela is an Israeli and Jerusalem is the place where I found my life.

 

Yet, regardless of my jet lag, I stayed awake all night waiting for the sirens to go off, and wondering where Raphaela and I would be safe from attack, and praying for the safe return of our soldiers involved in the ground operation in Gaza.

Reading Material

When my brother and I were young, we would eat our breakfast with cereal boxes in front of our noses, fascinating and essential reading. 

Raphaela and I have begun a new tradition with our morning cereal:  I bought a 2012-2013 calendar from the Metropolitan Museum in New York, and each day we change the picture to see and learn about the day's work of art, a sampling of the vast collection of the place that was my second home when I lived in The City.

Yesterday featured a 1904 Stickley Brothers Cabinet, made of oak wood cedar and mahogany, and with two beautiful stained glass windows for the doors.  They don't make furniture like this anymore, and I certainly could not find a pure wood closet at the local Israeli IKEA.

I asked Raphaela what she would place inside a cabinet like this, and I taught her a little about the art of stained glass.  Then Raphaela said, "I like this so much.  Mommy, after you drop me off at Gan tomorrow, can you go buy me a cabinet like this?"

Sure, my child, as soon as I step into my Tardis...