The horoscope in the weekend paper said that I would have a screw up (:-() ) that would allow me to make my life more efficient and find better solutions (:-) ). That was the last thing I wanted to hear, given that I knew that my mother would have returned to Boston and I was going to try to return to work. I do, after all, have to make money, having just had a two week 'vacation.'
This morning, when I took Raphaela to Gan, she was very sleepy, but when I dropped her off I told her teachers that a nap should take care of the problem. Two hours later they called me, saying that Raphaela had a fever and needed to go home.
In between all this, the Arab workmen from downstairs who damaged my porch came to do the repairs, and I had to leave them in the house while I brought Raphaela back to the apartment.
I canceled any plans for working or taking care of myself for the afternoon and picked her up, and once we got home she seemed to recover fairly quickly. Still, having registered a fever today, they may not want her back tomorrow, and so I am scurrying around to find a sitter for tomorrow, as I have a full patient load scheduled.
Luckily my body feels a bit stronger today, though after the chaos, I anticipate that I will collapse as the evening nears.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Surgical Post Script: In Defense of Single Motherhood
My mother left to return to Boston last night, and admittedly, we have a volatile if not dysfunctional relationship, but I think that this past week allowed us both to see aspects of each other that had been previously unrevealed.
When I made aliyah 14 years ago, I did so in order to fulfill my potential away from the pressure and expectations of my family, and certainly out of a strong feeling of Zionism and commitment to Israel. I know Jews living in Israel who preach that all Jews from all over the world belong in our Homeland; I disagree, the life of an Israeli is not easy and is not for everyone, just as the choice to become a single parent does not suit every woman, no matter how much she wants to be a mother.
When I chose to become a JSMBC, I spent over two years considering the possible complications on multiple levels. I interviewed couples with children to find out how much, practically speaking, a child costs at each stage of development. I spoke to the single mothers by choice who lived in my area, and observed their day-to-day routines. I spent over a year with a Life Coach to work through some of the more major issues I had with my upbringing, so I wouldn't bring that psychological baggage into my relationship with my future child. I did not choose this status lightly, and was fully aware that there would be challenges above and beyond that of a traditional married couple.
When I collapsed on the floor of my apartment and needed to be rushed to the Shaarei Zedek emergency room, every thought (other than, "OMG, this hurts!) revolved around Raphaela. Who would take care of her? How would she react to her mother being "less than" herself for the period after the surgery? What if I die and never see her again?
Even living 6,000 miles away from my blood relatives, know that I never once feared that I or my daughter would be abandoned. I am grateful for my mother, and I am grateful for the social network of friends and neighbors and clients here who helped me in some way in the last two weeks, and continue to offer assistance. As I have said before, but it bears repeating, I do not regret living in Israel nor do I feel guilty about being far away from the majority of my family.
If I didn't live in Israel, I couldn't have afforded the fertility treatments to have Raphaela, and I wouldn't receive the ongoing support for the choice of my 'alternative family.' For those of you considering the transition into SMBC, think hard and think long , as you must; but don't be afraid or ashamed of the choice.
When I was post-op and still in the hospital, the nurses and the doctors kept asking me, "Are you in pain? What can we offer you?" And I always answered, "I want to see my daughter. I want to bask in her smile. I want to hug her and read her a book and sit back and watch her play. That is all the medicine I need."
This surgery clarified my priorities. If I do nothing else with my life than be the best Mommy for Raphaela, and give her what she needs to fulfill her potential, I have done more than I ever imagined.
When I made aliyah 14 years ago, I did so in order to fulfill my potential away from the pressure and expectations of my family, and certainly out of a strong feeling of Zionism and commitment to Israel. I know Jews living in Israel who preach that all Jews from all over the world belong in our Homeland; I disagree, the life of an Israeli is not easy and is not for everyone, just as the choice to become a single parent does not suit every woman, no matter how much she wants to be a mother.
When I chose to become a JSMBC, I spent over two years considering the possible complications on multiple levels. I interviewed couples with children to find out how much, practically speaking, a child costs at each stage of development. I spoke to the single mothers by choice who lived in my area, and observed their day-to-day routines. I spent over a year with a Life Coach to work through some of the more major issues I had with my upbringing, so I wouldn't bring that psychological baggage into my relationship with my future child. I did not choose this status lightly, and was fully aware that there would be challenges above and beyond that of a traditional married couple.
When I collapsed on the floor of my apartment and needed to be rushed to the Shaarei Zedek emergency room, every thought (other than, "OMG, this hurts!) revolved around Raphaela. Who would take care of her? How would she react to her mother being "less than" herself for the period after the surgery? What if I die and never see her again?
Even living 6,000 miles away from my blood relatives, know that I never once feared that I or my daughter would be abandoned. I am grateful for my mother, and I am grateful for the social network of friends and neighbors and clients here who helped me in some way in the last two weeks, and continue to offer assistance. As I have said before, but it bears repeating, I do not regret living in Israel nor do I feel guilty about being far away from the majority of my family.
If I didn't live in Israel, I couldn't have afforded the fertility treatments to have Raphaela, and I wouldn't receive the ongoing support for the choice of my 'alternative family.' For those of you considering the transition into SMBC, think hard and think long , as you must; but don't be afraid or ashamed of the choice.
When I was post-op and still in the hospital, the nurses and the doctors kept asking me, "Are you in pain? What can we offer you?" And I always answered, "I want to see my daughter. I want to bask in her smile. I want to hug her and read her a book and sit back and watch her play. That is all the medicine I need."
This surgery clarified my priorities. If I do nothing else with my life than be the best Mommy for Raphaela, and give her what she needs to fulfill her potential, I have done more than I ever imagined.
Technical Difficulties
Just wanted to let my blog readers know that this site crashed for several days, and when I was able to get back on line, I was quite sure that certain postings of mine and many comments of yours "disappeared."
They still seem to be experiencing technical difficulties on blogger, so if I have not responded in some way to your helpful (or more critical) comments, it is because I was not able to read them.
They still seem to be experiencing technical difficulties on blogger, so if I have not responded in some way to your helpful (or more critical) comments, it is because I was not able to read them.
On My Own, Again
Mom leaves tonight, after ten days or so of invaluable help with Raphaela. Despite our multiple arguments, we managed to leave on very good (and very emotional) terms, before she left for the airport after Shabbat.
I am on my own again with Raphaela, tentatively returning to work as well next week, and quite frankly, I am worried that my body will not be able to physically keep up with the demands of my life.
I am on my own again with Raphaela, tentatively returning to work as well next week, and quite frankly, I am worried that my body will not be able to physically keep up with the demands of my life.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
I am Not Ungrateful
I feel the need to clarify this point: I am most grateful that my mother dropped everything to help me, there was no way I could have lifted Raphaela or gone grocery shopping alone. I have, throughout this week, told my mother how much I appreciate her coming, and the obvious sacrifice (emotional, physical and financial) she has made for me.
I also feel the need to clarify this point: I do not feel guilty in any way that I chose to move to Israel 14 years ago, or that I continue to choose to raise my daughter here.
There is a reason I moved 6,000 miles away from my family, and idealistic Zionism doesn't cover the explanation.
Without going into unnecessary and painful details, for every moment that my mother has been here for me and helping, it has been an endless barrage of criticism, from my posture to the way I dress, to my attitude toward men, to the way I am raising Raphaela and the manner in which I relate to my work as a Chiropractor. My computer is too slow, the water in my apartment is not hot enough, my phone charger isn't doing a good job, and I should have moved out of my apartment before I ever moved in. The newspaper I read is "too left wing." Even when the doctor gave us her expert opinion on Raphaela's walking, my mother continues to go around the house muttering, "Why don't you take her to a physical therapist?" Once she feels she has had her say on one issue, she moves onto the next one, and then observes that I seem to suffer from low self-esteem. Go figure.
My mother's tantrum on Yom HaAtzmaut morning showed me that after experiencing a taste of my life, in which I alone manage myself and Raphaela, she has no deeper understanding or appreciation for its difficulty, and its rewards.
And so I address my faithful blog readers who have implied either directly or indirectly that I am being bitchy, petty and ungrateful: in this circumstance of being incapable of taking care of myself, I am doing the best I can, while trying to respect my mother according to the halacha even when she cuts me down and disrespects me as a person and as a mother. Isn't that the essence of that famous/infamous phrase, "good enough parenting"?
I also feel the need to clarify this point: I do not feel guilty in any way that I chose to move to Israel 14 years ago, or that I continue to choose to raise my daughter here.
There is a reason I moved 6,000 miles away from my family, and idealistic Zionism doesn't cover the explanation.
Without going into unnecessary and painful details, for every moment that my mother has been here for me and helping, it has been an endless barrage of criticism, from my posture to the way I dress, to my attitude toward men, to the way I am raising Raphaela and the manner in which I relate to my work as a Chiropractor. My computer is too slow, the water in my apartment is not hot enough, my phone charger isn't doing a good job, and I should have moved out of my apartment before I ever moved in. The newspaper I read is "too left wing." Even when the doctor gave us her expert opinion on Raphaela's walking, my mother continues to go around the house muttering, "Why don't you take her to a physical therapist?" Once she feels she has had her say on one issue, she moves onto the next one, and then observes that I seem to suffer from low self-esteem. Go figure.
My mother's tantrum on Yom HaAtzmaut morning showed me that after experiencing a taste of my life, in which I alone manage myself and Raphaela, she has no deeper understanding or appreciation for its difficulty, and its rewards.
And so I address my faithful blog readers who have implied either directly or indirectly that I am being bitchy, petty and ungrateful: in this circumstance of being incapable of taking care of myself, I am doing the best I can, while trying to respect my mother according to the halacha even when she cuts me down and disrespects me as a person and as a mother. Isn't that the essence of that famous/infamous phrase, "good enough parenting"?
Out Out Damn Staples
It has taken me three days and countless phone calls, but I have finally managed to schedule the removal of the horrendous and painful stomach staples for tomorrow.
After observing my behaviour on the phone with the HMO and with the surgeons at Shaarei Zedek Hospital, my mother said that I was very hard to refuse once I put my mind to something. I am not quite sure if she meant it 100% as a compliment, but I take it as such.
After observing my behaviour on the phone with the HMO and with the surgeons at Shaarei Zedek Hospital, my mother said that I was very hard to refuse once I put my mind to something. I am not quite sure if she meant it 100% as a compliment, but I take it as such.
Yom HaAtzmaut 2011
On Yom HaAtzmaut morning, my mother decided that she was too old or too tired or in too much pain to perform the job of helping me with Raphaela. She slept in late, watched TV and complained about back pains. She bitched about jet lag, getting too little sleep and not understanding how she was supposed to function and take care of Raphaela. She napped while I walked to the supermarket with my broken body to get some groceries.
When I said to her, "Welcome to my life," she said the Lethal Weapon equivalent of "I'm too old for this shit."
By the time the afternoon arrived, my mother was in better spirits as we drove to my friend in Hashmonaim for the traditional Israeli engorgement of all things BBQ. It was an anniversary celebration of sorts with my friend, whom I had met last year at almost the exact Hebrew date, when we both got stranded in Boston because of the volcanic ash travel incident.
We had the Yom HaAtzmaut feast at her parents' house, with her whole family. Her husband, who has been in and out of the hospital in the last year with a severe degenerative neurological disorder, he was healthy enough to attend, and when my back started hurting he offered me a Morphine (Lovely Morphine) lollipop.
Raphaela enjoyed the day most of all, playing and flirting with the older boys and racing on mini-bikes, and eating from the huge selection of meats, vegetables and of course, desserts. These people, with their staggering generosity and warmth, live on a quiet street with a house and a yard, a rarity for those of us who live in the city of Jerusalem. She crawled on the grass and went up and down stairs, and we both enjoyed the clean air and fresh breezes.
Yom HaAtzmaut reminds me of family gatherings in the States on Thanksgiving, or even during Christmas break. On this day, the greater family of Israel remembers that despite our differences, we are one people and we must join together to protect our interests.
When I said to her, "Welcome to my life," she said the Lethal Weapon equivalent of "I'm too old for this shit."
By the time the afternoon arrived, my mother was in better spirits as we drove to my friend in Hashmonaim for the traditional Israeli engorgement of all things BBQ. It was an anniversary celebration of sorts with my friend, whom I had met last year at almost the exact Hebrew date, when we both got stranded in Boston because of the volcanic ash travel incident.
We had the Yom HaAtzmaut feast at her parents' house, with her whole family. Her husband, who has been in and out of the hospital in the last year with a severe degenerative neurological disorder, he was healthy enough to attend, and when my back started hurting he offered me a Morphine (Lovely Morphine) lollipop.
Raphaela enjoyed the day most of all, playing and flirting with the older boys and racing on mini-bikes, and eating from the huge selection of meats, vegetables and of course, desserts. These people, with their staggering generosity and warmth, live on a quiet street with a house and a yard, a rarity for those of us who live in the city of Jerusalem. She crawled on the grass and went up and down stairs, and we both enjoyed the clean air and fresh breezes.
Yom HaAtzmaut reminds me of family gatherings in the States on Thanksgiving, or even during Christmas break. On this day, the greater family of Israel remembers that despite our differences, we are one people and we must join together to protect our interests.
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