Private Party

Tomorrow, the 14th of Tishrei, marks Raphaela's Hebrew birthday, and tomorrow, Raphaela and I, and Olga and Mika will go shopping for supplies for the private birthday party that we (Olga and I) are throwing for our daughters during Succot, inviting a select group of close friends and the few family we have in the country.

If the weather cooperates, we will stage the event in the Nayot Park down the street, a relatively clean and modern park in Jerusalem compared to others, with plenty of grass and picnic area, and close to home.

I hope to look back many years from now and observe a friendship that started when both girls were swimming around inside, one that grew deeper and more satisfying for us grown-ups and the children from year to year.

I normally do not use this forum to express explicit political opinions, but today I cannot help myself.  An article appeared in the English Haaretz, written by the famous Israeli writer, AB Yehoshua.  You know that automatically, with a headliner author, his piece will be give more credance than usual.

Manipulating biblical quotes and using the history of the Jews' wandering throughout the globe throughout history, Yehoshua essentially claims that in fact we Israelis have no given right to the territory that is the modern State of Israel. The Israelis/Jews, he claims, have no actual basis for a homeland experience, the Palestinans posess a greater so-called right of return. Of course once all of us stubborn crazies on the Right acquiesce, it will be much easier to find a successful two-state solution with the Palestinians, a people who have actively declared their intention to wipe every Zionist off the face of the planet.

He concludes by saying, "In this period of political despair, which is spilling over into the new year, is it not worth trying to clarify old concepts and thereby look for a new breakthrough?"

All my personal politics aside, this is by far the biggest DumbAss move I have ever seen from the Israeli Left.  It is one thing to naively believe that the Palestinians want genuine peace, it is quite another to stand in your own living room, hand over the master keys, and say, essentially, "Please, kick me and my family out of my home and out of my land."

I have said it before, and it is worth repeating:  If Israel falls, no Jew anywhere in the world will be safe.

I am raising my daughter in Israel because I believe in the value of the country, and of the heritage and traditions it represents.  Who needs enemies from the outside when we do a perfectly good job of shooting ourselves in the foot?

The Book of Wonderful Moments

I hope this finds all of us after a fulfilling and introspective Yom Kippur, however you spent the last 25 hours.  I will always remember what one of my patients, a 90 year old Shoah Survivor once told me:  she said that life is never all bad or all good, and when we have that brief wonderful moment, we should cherish it, and hold onto that feeling of happiness.

At one point during the fast today, I was reading some inspirational writings from Fred McFeely Rogers - ie the beloved children's advocate Mr. Rogers - and came across an idea about forgiveness that spoke to me on this day.  And so I share his thoughts with you; please forgive me if I have caused you harm,  and  I wish that we all be sealed into the Book of Wonderful Moments:

Forgiving and forgetting are often paired together, but the one certainly doesn't necessarily follow the other. Some injuries, real or imagined, we may never be able to forget, even though we say we've forgiven them.  Other injuries we may never even be able to say that we forgive.  Those are the ones, it seems to me, most likely involve people we've loved, and so I'm inclided to look at what our experiences of forgiveness may have been like from the first people who loved us.

The first time we required forgiveness, we probably did something we shouldn't have when our closest grown-ups thought we should have known better. We made someone angry.  We were to blame. What did the first brush with blame begin to teach us?

If we were fortunate, we began to learn that "to err is human."  Even good people sometimes do bad things.  Errors might mean corrections, apologies, repairs, but they didn't mean that we, as a person, were a bad person in the sight of those we loved.  The second thing we learned (if we were fortunate) was that having someone we loved get mad at us did not mean that person had stopped loving us;  we had their unconditional love, and that meant we would have their forgiveness too.

A Time for Change

I have never looked forward to my own birthday, and generally found their celebration a let-down.  I cannot remember more than one or two parties out of the 40 plus years of my life that left me feeling happy about turning one year older.  This past year, I did not even remember my birthday, because it was the day after Raphaela's surgery.

I want that to be different for Raphaela, and today represented a fantastic start. I dressed up for the occasion, as the mother of birthday child;  fancy dress, jewelry and make-up, the works.   The cake my friend made was stunning and tasty, a pink Barbie Princess chocolate cake creation;  the kids danced and sang, played with balloons and colored.  Although it took Raphaela a little time to get used to being the center of attention, she quickly adapted, and then feigned shyness every time one of the other parents came over and wished her a "Happy Birthday."

After Gan, Raphaela and I, and two other parents and their children went to the nearby Jerusalem Botanical Gardens and fed the swans and enjoyed a light dinner.

Before tucking Raphaela into bed this evening, I showed her some of the photos from her busy day, and we talked about all the kids in her class, and I sang her the birthday song one more time, as she grinned from ear to ear.

Now that's what I call a positive birthday experience.

Gan Party Checklist

Raphaela's Gan birthday party will be G-d Willing in two days, on the last day of school before Yom Kippur.  I invoke G-d in particular because Raphaela has the beginning of some version of a cold or allergies, and I would hate to have all this build-up (in my own head, mostly) for this party and then have her get full-fledged sick on that day.

I am a competent cook but a lousy baker, and so my friend Galia, whose talent in creating child birthday cake masterpieces, will be helping me with the birthday cake.

Being a Montissouri Gan, they ask the parents to bring a worthwhile art project for the event, so it is not simply a few songs and some junk food for the class.  I had ordered some great stuff off the internet, but alas, it will not arrive in time for the party.  Instead, I downloaded various coloring pages along the theme of Succot, and created 18 personalized coloring books for each of the children.  The coloring book will also include a page of Succot-related stickers, for use in creating the pictures, or to take home and stick on inappropriate pieces of grown-up furniture.

I have enough balloons, and a somewhat healthy snack bag for each of the kids in Raphaela's class.

This party has kicked my Type-A personality into high gear, and is causing me more stress than I believe it should.  Ironically, for an 'educational system' that encourages free expression and personal growth, the competition among parents regarding birthdays feels most inproportionate.  For G-d's sake, Raphaela is turning two, not going into the army or getting married.  And yet, I feel that I must show the other parents that I can put together a slamming celebration.

All this, and I am trying to plan a more intimate family birthday gathering during Chol Hamoed Succot.  I need the letter "M" on my shirt, for masochist.

Happy Birthday Raphaela

This morning I dropped Raphaela off at Gan, but waited until the clock read 7:50 am, so I could officially give Raphaela her birthday kiss, two years and at the exact minute to the (English) day that she was born and I got to hold her for the first time.

Of course then I started tearing up, overwhelmed by the flood of the memory of her birth, so I quickly wiped my eyes and left her happily playing at Gan.  My emotions will usually get the best of me, and though I am not ashamed of that aspect of personality, I did not want anyone to think that this was anything other than the best of events. 

Free to Be...You and Me

On the occasion of Raphaela's second birthday, I have decided to introduce her to the CD (I suppose then it was a record) that changed my life:  Free to Be...You and Me.  The collection of hippie-like stories and music taught the values of self empowerment, of non-conforming, and exposed me to the idea that almost everything is possible.  ("Mommies can be almost anything they want to be...they can't be Grandpas, or Daddies....")

I especially relate, now more than ever, to the story of the wise and outspoken Atalanta, who defies convention and chooses to explore the world before settling down and getting married.  The one man whom she considers for marriage is the person who treats her with consideration and respect, as his equal.  That in fact is my Jewish New Year's resolution:  now that Raphaela is more independent, I open myself to dating and to doing for myself as a woman, as well as a mother of a child.  Perhaps the standard of man and relationship, set up as a template in my head by Free to Be...You and Me, that of my best friend, my lover, my husband and equal partner, and the loving father to Raphaela, sounds unattainable or unrealistic.

To quote one of the men I most admire, Christopher Reeve, "Nothing is impossible," and since I am now effectively both Mother and Father, I am happy to share that responsibility, and that joy with the right man in our lives.

Gmar Chatima Tovah.