Countdown to Flight

Less than 24 hours before we fly to the States, Raphaela is enjoying herself in Gan while I am no where near ready.  I work this morning at the clinic and then have to shut down the office for the next two weeks;  then I have a few select but important outside the house errands;  then I have to finish the bulk of the packing before I pick up Raphaela from Gan at four in the afternoon.

Don't worry, the dolls that will accompany her on the plane have been washed and stand at readiness.

Though I didn't plan it per se, similar to the situation I experience before Pessach, I have not gone to the supermarket recently and am hoping that I leave as little fresh supplies in the house before we leave.  One Devil Dog remains as a snack for me, one small bag of Bamba remains for Raphaela, though there is plenty of fruit in the bin in the fridge. I am not sure what we will eat for dinner, there is always take out if I get desperate and don't want to cook.   I can also eek out that last bit of moisturizer and toothpaste this evening, no worries. 

The house cleaner came yesterday, so now Harry has two weeks to make his own mischief.  He has already planted himself on our suitcases as a form of protest;  if I cannot pack, then we cannot leave.

Raphaela and I have some of our most meaningful conversations before five am, when she comes to wake me and we snuggle in bed together:

This morning she asked me if I was happy, and I said "Yes."

Then she said, "So you have lots of  friends?"  I smiled and said, "Yes, I do."

"Good for you, Mommy!"

(Now if only the jet lag from our trip to the States tomorrow would reset her internal clock, so we could have these chats just a little bit later in the morning.)

Slogging through the miserable rain this afternoon, when I picked up Raphaela from Gan, I couldn't help but notice that she had not one but two stickers of "Excellent" on her shirt.  Her teacher explained to me that all the children received one sticker for helping to put away the toys, but that my daughter deserved to get two, because she was one the best helpers in the whole class.

The little things make me so happy.  (Thank you, Universe!)

Magnet Madness

One of the many benefits of the new Gan is the fact that Raphaela and I can walk there together, giving us ten or so minutes of quality time to start the day and observe the happenings of the neighborhood.

Several weeks ago, some random repair person peppered the entire Jerusalem area with his magnets, sticking them on any surface on the streets and within buildings that would hold them.  Raphaela became obsessed, started collecting them and sticking them on our front door.  I personally dislike a sense of random clutter in my living space, but these magnets are as precious as gold to my daughter, and so I must respect her newest hobby.

At first, I would scout out the area, and if I saw more advertisement magnets ahead of our route, I would surreptitiously remove them before Raphaela spotted them and insisted on taking them home.  "Damn magnets, they multiply like rabbits," I would mutter under my breath.  Somewhere along the way, I became a convert, and now actively help Raphaela add to our expanding collection.  For example, this afternoon while getting a facial, I noticed several magnet stickers on the door of their establishment - a pizza place, a sushi place and a heater repair person, none of which we have on our door - and without shame asked if I could take them for my daughter.

It brought me back to my elementary school years, when every grade brought another fad collection; stickers, stationary, base ball cards, Barbie dolls, and more that I cannot recall.  Ah to return to those more simple times, when my biggest concerns in life were homework and my sticker collection. 

Story Time

The focus of story hour at Raphaela's Gan has been classic Israeli books, like "A Tale of Five Balloons", "Hot Corn," "The Lion who Loved Strawberries," and "Yael's House."

When I came to Gan to pick Raphaela up yesterday, all the children were gathered around a large cardboard box (Yael's house, what else?) and knocking to see who might be found inside.  Raphaela would not leave, and invited me to sit in the circle with her and her friends until her teacher finished the story.  At a certain point, several children had to go to the toilet and I was given the task of keeping the remaining kids entertained for a brief period of time, so I continued the story of Yael's house. 

The book essentially tells the story of a girl who wants to have a play house of her own, a private space;  she finds a large wooden box a la the Israeli Kibbutz and steps inside, only to be taken away by tractor to a dark warehouse.  The story ends well, with the Kibbutz giving Yael the box as a gift and promising never to take it or her away by tractor again.

When the nursery teacher returned, she winked at me and said, "Let's give these children a stronger moral of the story, shall we?"  And the teacher proceeded to tell the class how worried Yael's mother was when her daughter disappeared, and how important it is to tell your parents where you are when you go outside to play. 

Then the children took all the girl-looking dolls they could find, and merrily stuffed them inside Yael's house. Nothing beats the sound of giggling toddlers.

Matters of Perspective

One more week before we are meant to travel to the States for Thanksgiving.  I, or rather the nerdy girl in me who always hated missing even one day of class, sat with her teacher today and asked essentially how I could make up for the loss of "material" about Chanukah that Raphaela would miss while we are away.

Her Head Nursery Teacher, who recently lost her 91 year old mother to prolonged illness and old age.

Meanwhile, our actual Thanksgiving plans remain in the Undecided category;  the original plan included a festive meal with cousins (in Long Island) and Shabbat with my sister (in Long Island).  Due to Hurricane Sandy, my cousin does not have electricity, and my sister cannot live in her house. 

An Ultra-Orthodox mother of five and due to give birth in December to her sixth child, my sister and her family lost their car and the entire first floor of their house to the flooding.

Not Undecided is the American Public, who go to the polls today in an atmosphere of a dead-heat between Romney and Barack Hussein Obama.  Will it be the Muslim or the Mormon who wins the day?  Is there ever really a candidate who likes Israel, or just likes getting that bloc of votes?  What effect will Hurricane Sandy and its terrible aftermath have on the election?  When do the Americans get smart and abolish the Electoral College?  And how many lawyers are gearing up as we speak to fight the inevitable recounts and State-by-State law suits?

Hey, that's a thought, maybe my Absentee Ballot will count this year, for a change.

Late Starters

From almost the moment that Raphaela was born, I started reading her books.  Maybe it was more like Maisy's Bedtime and less like Tolstoy, but Raphaela became a book hound early in life.

The library near our house had been closed for several months because of renovations, and finally re-opened at the beginning of November.  When I picked up Raphaela from Gan today,  I told her that we would be attending the grand reopening of the library, and that we would be able to borrow two new books for the house.

My daughter screeched in joy and literally danced all the way to the library.

As we left with our books in hand, I witnessed the following conversation in Hebrew between and Israeli woman and her son, a boy of approximately four years old:

Mother:  I have to show you something very important, do you know what this place is?
Boy:  No I don't know.
Mother: This place is called a library, a place where you can borrow books and take them home, and when you are done, you exchange them for other books at the library.
Boy:  (Silent)
Mother:  Would you like to try the library some day?
Boy:  (With no particular enthusiasm) Sure, why not?

It must be a cultural issue, but I find it difficult to believe that a four year old has never been exposed to the concept of libraries and - horrors - reading for fun, and I wonder (without judgement of other's parenting choices) what he does at home to keep himself entertained.