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.

Save the Caterpillar!

Every Shabbat, assuming the weather allows, Raphaela and I walk to the Gazelle Valley Nature Preserve;  we bring a picnic and hike along the trails, and enjoy the fact that the gazelle have become much less shy since the park opened, the 12 of them can be seen up close and with the naked eye.

This afternoon on the way to the Nature Preserve, we spotted a fuzzy caterpillar on the sidewalk, it seemed to be in distress.  We attempted to move it to the side so it would not get trampled, but the encounter left Raphaela quite disturbed.

For the rest of the way until the park, Raphaela got all fired up, and laid out her plans to create an international consortium to save this caterpillar.  "We need to tell EVERYONE  we see that they must be careful and not step on the caterpillar.  We need to recruit at least 200 people to join our crusade to save the caterpillar.  We need to increase awareness of nature and keep the insects safe from bicycles and pedestrians and strollers and dogs."

She caught her breath for a moment and then said, "And when our friends from Holland organize themselves, they will have to come over to Israel and help us.  We may just have to take the caterpillar to the vet."

Sure enough, once we got to the Gazelle Valley, Raphaela literally stopped every single visitor to the park (it was very crowded today), put on her serious face and instructed, "On your way home today, please be very careful.  My mother and I saw a wounded caterpillar."

I didn't even attempt to temper her enthusiasm for this project.

Most of the adults nodded their head and acknowledged Raphaela, a few said that perhaps the snails should be included in her efforts.  This past week we had one day of rain and the snails came out in full force, and several days after there are squashed snail shells everywhere.

On the way home, Raphaela and I passed by the spot where we had seen the injured creature, there were signs of a sad (and yet anticipated) end.  My daughter said to me, "We don't know exactly what happened to our friend, but I know we did the right thing by raising awareness."

(Six years old...)

Thar She Blows

Probably because of early exposure to the concept through Dora the Explorer, Raphaela has a fascination/fear with the phenomenon of volcanoes.  She has asked the question more times than I can count, "Do we or anyone we love live near an active volcano?" In response I found a current map of active volcanoes online, printed it out for her, and we reference it often.

To our friends in Singapore, she asked me to write them an email, clarifying the issue, to which they graciously responded, "We do not live near an active volcano.  Don't worry Raphaela, we will stay safe."

While I have not ridiculed her mild obsession, I try to down play the potential ripple;  I want Raphaela living in joy in the present, not worrying about what natural disasters could afflict us in the future.  Living in Israel, the life-and-death cloud hangs over us, a constant reminder that we are surrounded by 22 Arab states that want to wipe us off the map. My daughter doesn't need another potential enemy from Mother Nature or the Mayan Armageddon.

However, the teacher has become the student.

Yesterday I had a new patient, a visiting scientist from southern Italy.  In the process of the medical intake interview, I found this question slipping out of my mouth:  "Do you live near an active volcano?" (According to our volcano map, Italy is chock full of potential lava danger.)

I know that Raphaela would have been proud of me in that moment.

Final Countdown to First Grade

Last night, Raphaela and I went to Evelyna to meet her teachers and her classmates, making this transition all the more real. I was pleased with her Head Teacher (a woman who has a stellar reputation) and the fact that Raphaela knows 7/31 girls in her class,  from her previous years in Gan and from her English sessions.

Raphaela came home jazzed and motivated, and woke up at five am this morning because she wanted to "watch the sun rise."

[Trumpets and fanfare]  Today is officially Raphaela Day, a day during which I will not work, a day of preparation and celebration toward First Grade.

We started with a special breakfast at the Jerusalem Botanical Gardens of pancakes and French toast with all the fixins, followed by the Farewell Tour of the Dinosaurs who have lived there all summer.  At the café, I asked them privately to make Raphaela's breakfast "festive" and they slightly misunderstood;  they brought out her plate with a candle and started singing "Happy Birthday."

On the way home, we noticed that a new pet store had very recently replaced the video store on Herzog Street.  Animal lovers that we are, we had to check out this new business, and it turned into a full blown petting zoo experience.  The green parrot named Mitzi sat on our hand; we pet the rabbits; and observed the gerbil with her new babies,  these small red things the size of Bamba.  Then Raphaela and I had our intermittent discussion about when our 13 year old cat Harry might die, where we might get a new kitten and what kind of kitten toys we might buy for him/her.

Onto home, where we spent about 20 minutes organizing her backpack and school supplies, and covering her school workbooks with plastic covers.  We spent about an hour switching over her clothing dresser to school mode, adding in her uniform and weeding out clothing to be given to charity.  On the one hand, I am relieved that the routine of dressing in the morning has been infinitely simplified; on the other hand, she has some beautiful dresses and shirts that may never be worn again.

Then, almost inexplicably, my mind switched to Spring Cleaning mania.  Almost every drawer in the house was opened and emptied, the pile of charity donations grew, as well as several garbage runs.  I discovered in the process that I am more of a pack rat than I remembered, finding way many more bags, pillows, bathrobes and baseball caps than a normal human needs.

Though we had planned to go the pool this afternoon, instead we took a walk locally, running various small errands.  With everything packed and ready to go, other than her lunch which I will make in the morning, Raphaela eagerly took her bath and went to sleep on time.

Every time she said, "I am so excited for tomorrow," I simply smiled.

Light Festival 2015

Last year, I hired a sitter to watch Raphaela while I attended the Light Festival in the Old City of Jerusalem.  I regretted not taking her with me, because there were so many activities geared toward children, in addition to the performances and the beautiful displays.

This year I decided that despite it being a school night, and though I was not sure if Raphaela could handle the late night trip, we journeyed to the Old City.   As we get closer to the Summer vacation and further away from Kindergarten, an exception here and there of staying up late seems harmless enough.   I brought an entire picnic just in case my daughter needed to refuel.

Raphaela ended up surprising me, walking around for almost three hours with no complaints of fatigue or sore legs.  There was something magical, very Alice in Wonderland, with all four quarters (Arab, Christian, Jewish, Armenian) lit up and decorated, and with pockets of live music in almost every corner.  I told her that because she had dealt so well with this outing, I would schedule the late-night safari at the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo for later during the Summer.

Raphaela is growing up so fast.

Ironically, the most spectacular vision of the night was wholly natural, and put the rest of the man-made exhibits to shame:  an astounding moon-rise over Jerusalem,  a full yellow moon that filled the sky for over three minutes.

Deer Sighting!

With a beautiful national park right down the street from our house, Raphaela and I have frequented the Jerusalem Deer Reserve four times since it opened its doors and today, finally, we spotted actual deer (to be more accurate, gazelle)!  Three of the smaller animals came to the main pond to drink, and all of us sitting there raised a big cheer...whereupon they ran into the field and hid, blending into the tall grass.

At one point Raphaela needed the bathroom, and we were too far away from the only option available to us at the main gate of the park.  Surrounded by nature and not another soul in sight, I told Raphaela to go into the field and hide behind a tree and take care of it.  Several minutes later a clearly American couple could be heard saying, "These Israeli children are disgusting, violating a national park!" That made me the mother of this Israeli child, and hearing their heavily accented Hebrew, I felt the need to reply. I calmly explained in English that she is five and a half and can't "hold it in," and besides, we are not littering per se.  "You disgust me, you Israelis!" was the reply.  I guess after 18 years in this country, I am now officially an Israeli.

On the way home, Raphaela fell and skinned her knew and elbow badly.  I happened to have brought wipes with me, and used them to clean the wound; a man passing by then happened to have a Band-Aid in his pocket.  As I applied the Band-Aid, Raphaela hugged me tight and said, "I am so lucky to have a Mommy who is a doctor!  I wish everyone could have a Mommy like mine."

Marvelous Monday

The morning started with a bang.  While I was in the shower, our cat Harry caught a baby bird in mid-air, brought it back to the windowsill and ate it.  Raphaela watched the whole thing with a combination of horror and enthusiasm, and was most impressed that he did not "waste his food";  though I heard her chastising Harry afterwards, saying to him, "Now don't eat any more birds, OK?"  Harry has been staking out that birds nest since February, waiting for his chance; I give him credit for his patience and his alacrity, not bad for a 13 year old feline.


Once I dropped Raphaela off at school, for time since before the extra-long Pessach vacation, I did a real run in Gan Sacher, with real sweating and fat burning aerobic activity.  With no specific motivation for staying in shape IE no family event or marathon, I must remember the feeling of elation and commit again to continuing the workouts.


Meanwhile, in Gan, Raphaela had a show-and-tell gig.  Until now, children in her class had brought in their sea shell collection, or a favorite doll, or a soccer ball.  Raphaela decided she wanted to talk about her ballet class.  Which led into (naturally) including selections of paintings of Degas's ballet dancers, her favorite artist.  Which meant that she also felt the need to create her own pastel drawing and add that into the presentation.  Sounds more like a small art history thesis to me, I am proud of Raphaela for making these connections and creating an ambitious presentation.


Raphaela's Nature class finished off the day.  I cannot remember my childhood feeling this busy.

Pessach Vacation II

Day Three
Despite the phenomenal heat wave in Jerusalem, we returned to the newly opened Nature Reserve near our house, and because of the hoards of holiday people, the deer remained hidden.  Once the mad crowds die down and children go back to school, Raphael and I will walk there - it's less than ten minutes from our house - and observe the wildlife.
Even without the deer sightings, it is a beautiful and serene place.


Day Four
The Prophet Elijah (or at least his human proxy) finished the cup of wine last night and left a note in Hebrew for Raphaela, "Thank you for the delicious wine!  Happy Pessach, all my blessings, the Prophet Elijah."


Raphaela was of course ecstatic, and wants to start a regular correspondence, reasoning that if we write the Prophet's name on an envelope and put it in the mail box, the letter will most definitely arrive at its destination.


Though we still have plans to make a trip to the Old City before the end of the holiday vacation, today promised to be even hotter than yesterday, so we had brunch with friends who are visiting from the United States, followed by a BBQ with Israeli friends.
Finally today, a decent cup of coffee and a filling dinner.


Day Five
The heat wave broke last night, leaving Thursday cloudy and a bit chillier, a perfect day for a local day trip after several days of sweating.  The closer we got to the Old City, the sunnier it got, and the more pleasant our walk.


Raphaela as usual was in charge of distributing our spare change to those asking for charity, and one of the more elderly women physically captured my daughter into hug, praising her for being a "Mitzvah Girl."  I also gave Raphaela some money to spend on herself, as a reward for her generosity and altruism; she bought herself a new book.


When I asked Raphaela what she prayed for today, she said that she asked for Love, she thanked G-d for keeping us safe, and then asked G-d to send her a father.  Raphaela also took some photos with my camera, she wanted to "practice being a Mommy."


She was full of fabulous questions today, like: "Why does Israel need a President AND a Prime Minister?" "How does God read all those notes that people put in the Wall?" She also wanted to know the background stories behind the names of all the gates to the Old City of Jerusalem; I actually couldn't answer her, and promised that I would look it up on the internet when we got home.


To finish off our vacation, Raphaela agreed to taste my matza brei, which so far has been lacking in consistent quality.  We have barely gone through a half of a small box of matza, and for that I am proud.

Gan Birthday Party I

Since the very beginning of the school year, possibly even starting in August while she was still in Nature Camp, Raphaela asks the question almost daily, "When am I going to have my Gan birthday party?"  I had answered her consistently, after the set of Jewish holidays.  (It's the period known by all in Israel as "Acharei HaChagim," when suddenly people become productive, until the Chanukah vacation in December.)

The day after Succot ended, Raphaela made a very reasonable and reasoned demand, "Mommy, my birthday was one week ago, and now the holidays are over, for real.  Did you arrange the date for my Gan birthday party?"

And so, after nagging the Head Kindergarten Teacher Devorah, the main event was set for this coming Friday.  That was, until Gannenet Deborah injured her arm last night.

Now the party has been pushed off one more week, and I dreaded breaking the news to my birthday-obsessed daughter.

This morning I sat Raphaela down, looked her straight in the eye and explained that her teacher hurt her arm very badly last night and now she is wearing a cast.  I told Raphaela that I spoke to her teacher, and Devorah said that she really wants to be able to dance properly at the party, and so it will not be this week after all, but rather soon, in fact next Friday.

I expected sadness and disappointment, possibly a welling-up of tears. Instead, Raphaela immediately ran to the play room, took out markers and scissors and drawing paper, and of her own initiative, created a beautiful "Get Well" card.

Landing the Helicopter

There has been much talk and debate regarding Helicopter or "Tiger" parents, and I for one have always been grateful that Israeli society seems to foster more independence in children than in the United States.

In the past 24 hours I have come to understand that I still have room for improvement.

Yesterday Raphaela tried out an after-school activity at the Jerusalem Museum of Natural History, where she had previously experienced one of the her most memorable summer camps.  The 90 minute animal workshop was led by the same woman who managed the summer camp, a kindergarten teacher with miles of experience and a teaching philosophy that I have always admired.

The teacher suggested that if the parents were to remain in the room, we could participate gladly but not minimize the effect for the children.  Personally I would have been happy to meet with a friend for a cup of coffee and return for pick-up, but Raphaela wanted me to stay and meet her favorite bunny.  Throughout the play time, I found myself trying to "help" the instructor and Raphaela by re-explaining or modifying the teacher's instructions.  At a certain point, Maya Papaya Pickle [that's her name at work...] pulled me aside and explained that in her many years of dealing with children and their parents, she knows that all I have done comes from a positive place, with the intention of making my daughter's life "easier."  Maya Papaya then continued, encouraging me to consider how much more it would help Raphaela if I stepped aside and allowed her to work things out for herself, gain the confidence of knowing that she figured it out and conquered her own territory.

Yup.  And so I sat in the corner drinking tea, joining in only when Maya Papaya and Raphaela gave me their permission.

This morning I took Raphaela to speech therapy, where we have finished proper Hebrew pronunciation and have moved onto building the bridge of vocabulary between her fluent English and her fluent Hebrew, both of which get just a bit lost when Raphaela is trying to form complex sentences. I tried to observe quietly, and again, found myself several times trying to give Raphaela hints as to how to find a solution or a word faster, or at least quicker than her own mind was capable of at the time.  Yvonne, her most excellent speech therapist and kind person, gently advised me to generate the patience and give Raphaela the time she truly needed, because if she solved a linguistic issue herself, she would own it and be that much more proud of herself.

Yup.  And so I sat in the corner playing on my iPhone and only interacted in the game and evaluation when invited to do so.

After dropping Raphaela off at school, I went to the Chiropractic clinic and began my work for the day, and that's when whatsapp starting pinging.  First a message from Raphaela's kindergarten teacher, announcing that on Friday the CHILDREN would be celebrating the start of a series of teachings about the Torah.  Deborah asked that the parents send their kids to school that day in fine clothing and with celebratory Torah items, like a flag.  Deborah, the head teacher also requested that four of the parents IE fathers volunteer to read the opening chapter of Genesis, in various ethnic tunes and styles, as part of the celebration. 

PING!  Mother 1:  Well, I am coming to the celebration and I will be making a cake for the party.
PING!  Mother 2:  Me too, I will also be bring a cake.
PING! Mother 3:  I will be bringing a cake that is gluten free, for the children who may have allergic sensitivities.
(Here I am, thinking that the teacher did not want to turn this into a major parent-child event, that I really really want my Fridays free so I can relax from the whole week, and what the hell do parents gain by kissing up to the staff at the kindergarten?!  Didn't the teacher promise that parents would have only three parties the whole year? I  am willing to embrace the lasseiz faire approach...)
PING!  Deborah:  I think we have enough cakes.   Can someone bring some drinks?
PING! PING! PING! PING! (Twenty times over)  Parents 4-20:  I will bring drinks.
PING! Father 1:  I will be able to read the Torah in the Ashkenazi style.
PING!  Father 2:  I will be able to read the Torah in Sephardi style.
PING!  Father 3:  I will be able to read the Torah in Sephardi Israeli style.
PING!  Father 4:  I feel so bad, I am working on Friday and I can't help you by reading the Torah in any style.  But I just wanted to say how bad I feel about not being able to come.
PING!  Deborah:  Wow, you parents are amazing, really. Can any of the fathers read the Torah in Teimani style?  And do any of the other mothers or fathers want to open the party with a blessing for all the children of the class?
PING!  Mother21:  Wait, don't we need throw away plates and cups for the party as well?
PING!  Deborah:  Sure, why not.
PING!  Mother 22:  Hey, I wanted to bring cutlery and plates and cups and napkins!
PING! Deborah:  Please, by all means.  Now we are missing other snack foods like potato chips and such, who will volunteer for that?
PING! Mother 23:  I am going to bring the biggest bag of potato chips you have ever seen.
PING!  Mother 24:  Me too, my bag of chips will be just as big.
(Rearranging my work schedule for Friday and wondering if I am going to have to wear full synagogue regalia for this supposed minor religious gathering.)
PING!  Deborah:  Parents, by the way, you should remember that is just the first session of a full year of parent-child activities every Friday.  I think it is so important that you mothers and fathers fully encourage your children as they get closer and closer to First Grade and to their awareness as proud Jewish children.
(Every Friday?  And you know that there will be repercussions  on some level for parents who can't attend on a regular basis, because of work or Shabbat preparations, or G-d Forbid some grown up time at the end of the week.  I mean, I love my daughter and would do anything for her, but have a little mercy on a single mother...)
PING! Mother 25:  Hey, are you sure we don't need another cake?

Distracted and exasperated, I shut off my phone.

I Won't Take a Bath

On the way home from Nature Camp yesterday, Raphaela started a sentence with, "I really hate that..." and I immediately interrupted her. I explained to her that the word "hate" is very strong, hurts people's feelings, and brings lots of negative energies with it;  just witness the 3,000 year turmoil in the Middle East, the hate has become so strong that everyone has forgotten why we are all still fighting.

I set down the rule of law in our house, that we do not use that word to explain our feelings, and that we apply the concept very sparingly, when it is actually deserved.  Raphaela immediately amended her original sentence, saying, 'I really don't like when...."

I presume she picked up that word in camp.

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When Raphaela comes home from camp, she is hyper and dirty and sweaty and exhausted, all in the good sense of having had a full and active day. During the summer we have pushed up bath time, mostly because Raphaela wants to change into a clean set of clothing when we get home.

It took a bit of effort to convince her yesterday to strip down and jump in the bath, thus started the frustration of the evening.  Then she started jumping in the water, sliding all over the place and making waves that splashed out on the floor.  Mommy does not like cleaning up local flooding. 

During one of her gymnastic endeavors, she jumped so high that the water pushed her over the edge of the bathtub, flipping and comically landing on the floor in a twisted lump.  I was afraid to turn her over and expected to see a chipped or lost tooth, and certainly copious amounts of blood that would necessitate a visit to the emergency room at Shaarei Zedek hospital.

Turns out, instead of landing on the hard tiled floor and cracking her head open, she landed...on my foot.  And instead of losing teeth she got scratched with only mildly bleeding.  My toe though not broken, started throbbing.

My parenting brain froze:  I wanted to make sure she understood that her behavior was dangerous, and at the same time I felt immensely grateful to G-d that it was a minor injury, a scratch that will fade within a few days.

What came out of my mouth came straight from the Polish shtetl, "Young lady, you don't know how lucky you are, you really could have hurt yourself just now and instead you are a little scratched up. No need to go to the hospital, pthoo pthoo. I don't care if you were trying to break the Olympic record for jumping in the bathtub, you need to be more careful."

Ughh, I totally feel like I could have handled that better.

From the Mouth of the Young Ones

Dropping off Raphaela at  Nature Camp today, I stood there with one of her closest friends (M) and her mother, and one of their counselors.

M:  I'm four and a half.
RR:  I'm also four and a half.
RR's Mom:  Well, actually, soon you will both be five.
Counselor:  Well soon I will be 24!
M,RR:  Wow!
M's mother:  And I just turned 34.
M, RR:  That's a lot!
RR's Mom:  (silent, and hoping no one will notice)
RR:  How old are you Mommy?
RR's Mom:  I just turned 46.
M:  Oh, I'm sorry, but you're going to die soon.

Nature Camp, Week One

Here at Nature Camp, in the Jerusalem Museum of Natural History, we take the safety and security of our children very seriously!