Five already

Sweet Rebekah

I just cannot believe you are 5 years old. This feels like the big transition. That you are a real "kid" and no longer the toddler in the house. Now when you have a real toddler of your own, if that is your wish, you will admittedly realize that a 4 year old is hardly a toddler. But, you will forgive me as circumstances have made it so (unless someone delivers one to the door) you are meant to be my last baby.

You ask me all the time, "Mama, why do you call me baby, I am FIVE!?" And I remind you that I also call you honey and you are not made of honey either and that has had you busy....

I have been thinking back, to when you were smaller. Starting around 9 months or so I became sick and I abruptly had to stop nursing you to take toxic medicine to control my thyroid. Then I had a bad spell and I really don't remember much for about 9 months of my life. So there is so much I don't remember of yours either. We thankfully live in a highly photographic age and there are many many pictures.

I have noticed a theme on these photos, from the littlest to the more recent. There is someone by your side, most of the time. You and your sister seem to have your own language, your own sense of closeness that is a really beautiful thing to witness.

Sometimes your sister has a hard time and you have, with the typical childhood exceptions, been very kind to her. You have an innate ability to know how to be there and be tactful. You are a gentle soul and I deeply appreciate this about you.

You are surprisingly hilarious. Meaning you unexpectedly have the wittiest thing to say in the room at the most random times. You are so bright and such an optimist. You truly would, most of the time, rather be happy and let something go, than be forlorn or stubborn. (This will come in handy later in life, believe me). You also have no trouble with letting your opinions be known. Once, recently, we had lost our temper with you. You cried and went to be alone. You came back to us, tear stained, and briefly declared that while you had been in the wrong it was "scary for grown ups to yell" and that we should be aware of that. Okay then.

Both of you girls are at such a sweet age. Just grown up enough for us to enjoy activities and events together, but still you are sheltered from much of what currently troubles your parents about the world. We won't go into that here. No point. Besides, this one is about you.

Some of my favorite memories of this year have been dancing together as a family. We will be at a party or an event. At first everyone is a bit shy but then you start up with doing the robot - you are frighteningly good at that - and it is on. Marcella with her break dancing and you with your hip-hop and robot moves. What else truly matters?

I don't think I can tell you enough but it is always good to put these things in writing...I love you so very much. You are a bright spot in our lives and I thank you for reminding me so often to stop, give a kiss, give a hug and say I love you. You are better at that than most people I know. May you always be true to your heart. And may life bring you many great Blessings.

I love you baby.

Mama.

D'var Torah

My darlings. 

You did not come to Kabbalat Shabbat with me last week, so you missed this. Here it is, just for you...

תְּצַוֶּה And you (Moshe) shall command bnai Israel that they bring pure olive oil crushed for the light to raise an ever lasting flame.

When I arrive at shul I often look to the  נֵר תָּמִיד - 

I look for reassurances from fear or seeming darkness. I reflect with gratitude that we are at peace to maintain it without persecution. But I do not often reflect that we are tasked to bring the light there. It is not just olive oil that is commanded, but pure and crushed. The Talmud discusses that olives will only give light when pounded. But how do I react when I am shaped in this way by life.Rabbi Akiva once remarked that as the rocks of a river are shaped by gentle water, how may he be shaped by the words of the Torah. Yet when I have the opportunity to be a smoothed out rock or a light for a dark time or place, I can instead be merely human and reduced to a whiner, a frustrated nag, a worn out killjoy.So sometimes I have the opportunity to be shaped by hardship, by truth or reality, by the doldrums of the day to day. By difficulties with patience with my children, the illness of a loved one, being yelled at by a frustrated patient...

But as Aaron and his sons are chosen to serve, as Moshe is given instructions for the garments, the breast plate, the modesty, the ordination of priests, the instructions regarding the alter, the incense... I am reminded of what I am tasked or chosen to do.

What do I bring to my family in the morning, at the end of a “long day”? Do I bring the light? Am I smoothed over or jagged. What do I bring to shul, to the passerby, the friend, the patient before me? Does everyone bear the brunt of my existence? Or do I allow the crushing to embue the purity.As it is said...

I will dwell among the children of Israel... And they shall know that I am the L-rd their G‑d who brought them out of the land of Egypt, that I may dwell among them;

So what is the difference. Remaining true to myself for me is to follow mitzvot and carry them before my heart. Just following the rules may bring purity, the crushing of life may just leave me crushed. But put it together and to follow this path, from the heart...that I may look to the light and know I brought it to bear. 

So that was it, mostly.
I love you dearly. Yours,

אִמָא

January 2016

Lucky Number 7

Dear Ella,

My goodness, what a year! We had some struggles with being six and now you seem to be growing up so fast. In this year you have learned to read and write on your own more than ever. We traveled to the beach and had some really great times with cousins and friends. We walked through some interesting things, you and I, and as a family.

The world has not really been made much safer. It actually seems to be the opposite. Some real tragedies have happened this last year all over the world. Senseless violence, heart breaking divisions among leaders that block any meaningful change. You are thankfully still “little” – although I dare not tell you that to your face. And other than some inadvertent Fox news broadcast you have overheard at Nona’s house, you have been Blessed to be sheltered from those horrors for now. And we have been Blessed to have peace here where we are. Thank G-d. But this letter, while about the last year, is about you on your Birthday.

So in our little world you have challenged us with your volume and your intensity. Some may call it stubbornness. I will go with strength. You have strength. Yet, you still have this sweet sensitivity to others that leads you to do some incredibly creative things. You have that inherent ability to see into someone and see what they might be touched by and then go for it. Like when you needed a costume and you thought of being Daddy. Down to the detail: we painted on the beard, you had the matching shirt and sweats. Even the blue-tooth he is infamous for. Or when you picked out a Lego set because you wanted to put it together for your sister (Hello Kitty dream house). Or when Rebekah was sick in the ER and you patted her hand and tried to make her laugh. Or, my favorite, on the week before your birthday, you insisted on packing my lunch and I found out why when I unpacked it the next day and found the little pink sticky note on which you wrote, “I Love You.” All by yourself.

One of the funniest things you did this year (besides the mini-me with daddy) was when you wanted a haircut. You said, “I want short hair”. I said I thought no, because you might look like a boy. Then you said, “But you have short hair.” I pointed out that it would be highly unlikely I would be mistaken for a boy…in words that made the hairdresser laugh out loud. Then you said, without a hesitation, “Mama, everyone that knows me and loves me knows I am a girl, so what does it matter what other people think.” You had your haircut. And I will start saving for law school now. Just in case.

Honestly, I am in awe of your determination and strength sometimes. Of course I cannot control where you plan on demonstrating your strength. And we do have our battles.

Sometimes I worry (you know I probably worry too much). You seem so uncomfortable sometimes. We are living in a tag-less, seamless sock, tennis shoes only, sensory toy loving environment right now, which is cool. I actually really love the pull-stretch-and-squeeze ball. It helps me with my own “pause”. And whether you actually “need” all this stuff or if the whole family needs it, it does not matter. Someone once said, it takes a village to raise a child…. Well I will say that parenting is like everything else I have encountered in my life: when I approach it by “winging it” I tend to become anxious and ineffective. When I handle it with prayer, support, laughter and a little research and help, it is a joy, an honor and a Blessing.

So you are seven. You told your Auntie that being seven is the best because it is a lucky number and you can go on some big kid rides at Disney. Seven. I remember being seven. I will tell you this – birthdays are fun and I have done it all again: decorations all over the house, presents and a birthday party I think you will always remember. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle party with a live reptile show. In my house. With 18 or so 6 -7 year olds. I am definitely going to need that pull-stretch ball….

Anyway. Birthdays are fun. And I think back to how we waited for our first born. And hoped and wished for you. And here you are. Everyday is a great adventure with you and your sister. Everyday I feel Blessed to have you in my life. I am so thankful to G-d that your soul was brought into our family, into our lives.

You are a marvelous, beautiful, hilarious and smart (scary smart) child. I love you to pieces. And I thank G-d everyday for you. You are fun, creative. You are strong willed and somewhat bossy. Maybe more than somewhat. A born leader one might say.

Most of all, and above all, you are a Blessing. And I hope you Always carry that Truth with you.

I love you, to the moon and back,
Mama

may 2015

my darlings.

I do not need to tell you what a busy year it has been. But I cannot believe it has been a year!

No excuses there. So much has happened and transitioned this year, it has been amazing. And a bit scary. So what brings me back to the world of blogger, you may ask…

I saw the sliver of a moon and you were not with me. I was working late and coming home late and missing my darling children and my amazing husband. And I saw a sliver of the moon in a deep blue-green sky. I knew I could not translate the moment or photograph it in a meaningful way. So I went from missing you both to appreciating every moment we do have.

Which brings me to what is next. In the last year you both have learned to daven so beautifully and well. I love to hear your songs of praise and prayer and celebration. And while school can teach you Ivrit and the words, how can you know the heart of the matter?

Recently someone commented that the time for prayer is the time to stop and breathe. And Blessed are we that you both have carefree lives free of terror and abject fear. We have food in our bellies and cozy beds, blankets with a roof overhead. I know you see it sometimes in your parents that when we become “grown ups” we can get “stressed” about time and money and recognition and respect. And forget to stop and see the moon, bring our hearts back to The Source, the moment.

In the morning, when I daven – whether nice and early in my chair  (you know the one) or in the car before going into work or in the halls of the hospital, I seek to go back to The Source. To center and remember what pride and fear always forget. Love. Peace. Awe. I seek for what could merely be a ritual to awaken me to faith and wonder every day.

What I want you to know is these words and songs you say and sing so beautifully can be there for you – when you fall or you hurt, have fear or shame. That whether we make a mistake or someone else does, Hashem is there, Thank G-d, and there is a comfort beyond all measure. I knowyour sweet little lives have had some challenges but not much pain (Blessed is G-d). I know that (Blessed is G-d) you both are sleeping, soundly and peacefully right now, in this moment. I just checked on you both…. I can see that you know Love. And believe you me, with all the power your father and I have we would see you comforted and safe and secure and basking in Love. But when you cannot see us, when you cannot reach for us, please know you are Always Beloved.

May your prayers and songs always be a blessing to you both. I know each time I hear your sweet words and songs, it is a blessing to me.

Yours, with love always,

Mama

mean girls. June 2015

Well my darlings,

There will always be mean people. Before we become grown ups (at least most of us) we have trouble accepting that other people are different than us – that we are each a unique creation.

What I want you to know is I will listen. And sometimes when I listen I want to say some choice things or rant or tell you what I think, but what I have learned is as a guide for you in this sometimes fractured world, the best I can do at first is just listen. Be a vessel for your stresses and concerns. A sounding board for your thoughts.

Today one of you told me how someone said they did not want to be your friend anymore. They will pretend they are sick if you invite them over. (I have to hand it to them, it is a bit clever and thought out…are we already at this stage?) It doesn’t matter what I thought but I stopped and listened. Then I asked you, how did that make you feel, and you, having learned some skills in the field of communications recently, did what I did not know how to do until I was in my 20’s. You said, “It made me sad.” So I told you, which is true, that it made me sad too.

You see my first reaction in my head was fear and anxiety followed closely by a sense that I cannot handle this. You reminded me what was going on under all of that – it was sad. You see,  I pressed a fast forward button to stressed-out and afraid. Something I had installed a long time ago. These emotions are not particularly helpful. Its just a very ingrained habit. In the mornings I say that G-d is my banner and my refuge…G-d is with me and I shall not fear….but I forget. Thank you darlings, for reminding me.

So there are mean people. My secret is out. There will be people that seem mean but maybe are not. And there will be people that are okay, they just don’t like you. There are people that don’t like me. It is just is part of personality. But there are two things I have come to understand that I hope you will understand too. One is that people are mean for a reason but that reason is not usually you. I mean we all make mistakes and we may make someone upset and they react to our actions. However, a person’s likes and dislikes are, interestingly enough, not our responsibility and they are often not personal. People can be mean because they don’t know better, they are afraid, they are tired, they have mean influences at home. But it is not really about you. The second thing is that it can hurt and make us feel sad, but it does not define you. You are loved and liked and cherished. Don’t worry, I hope to always remind you of that to my last breath. And be yourself. Whatever that is – your father and I support you, love you and stand by you!

And remember you are a kid – you should tell someone if something does not seem right. Ask for help. Call someone out in front of a teacher – “that is teasing” or  “that is mean and I am asking you to stop”.

The most important thing of all, don’t be the mean kid – ever. And even more important, if you see someone being mean to someone else – go tell them you are their friend, you are on their side. The Torah says we stand by and for each other. And to do nothing for someone being picked on is not okay. We lift each other up and take care of each other. It is what we do. Reaching out and being a friend to someone that is sad or hurt is part of tikkun olam. Repairing our little corners of the world. And anytime we do not take that step we miss that chance to be a part of the forces of good.

I wish sometimes the world was different. I have mused the idea of us hiding out in our own Utopia where there are no mean people. But sometimes I am the mean person, sadly. Baruch Hashem you are still to little to follow the news. Either I am getting older or the world is getting scarier. But why is this? I don’t know all the answers but I do know it brings me back to what you have reminded me of again today. G-d is my Rock, when I have pain and trouble…my Banner and Refuge. G-d is with us…we need not fear.

I love you both…
Mama

bek bek at 3

Dear Rebekah,

You are hilarious.
Now that you are three, and have much more to say, I want to let you know what you have been up to.

You have definite opinions about what not to wear, what to eat and Hello Kitty.
You love fresh fruit and bread – especially pita. You adore water and lemonade. Above all though, you want sweets….chocolate, marshmallows, frozen yogurt with toppings. And you (and your sister) love sour gummy toppings. Absolute favorite food though – pistachios. True story. You insist on trying to open them yourself. When you cannot, you label them as “bad” and give them to me or Daddy. As if the pistachios themselves proved beneath you or of lesser quality….

I love that you are proud and want everything to seem like your idea but that we can see that you love to copy your sister. Of course that works out better for me and daddy when your sister is behaving well.

You love love love everything Hello Kitty. You have HK plates, cups, spoons and forks. Once you went to school with HK bedazzled jeans and matching t-shirt, HK underwear and a large HK tattoo on your arm.
Oh, and HK socks. Amazing.

Favorite things to do: Sing with Marcella. Mostly Frozen sound track remixes that include Ivrit (I have no idea what you guys are saying). Dance. You enjoy dancing. So I got you a class. You enjoyed watching everyone in your class dance. It was the one time you wouldn’t dance. Hugs. You love to say, “my name is Olav and I like warm hugs.” Tickle Mama. Unfortunately, both you and your sister have discovered that hugging Mama’s leg tickles her and you think it is so funny. Except I am trying not to hurl you across the room in a knee jerk reaction.

Funny little things you do…You get really mad, really fast and it is so cute it is hard not to giggle (sorry). Which makes you hold your breath. When you don’t want to do something (anything not your idea) you say, “Um. No thanks” or “Not yet”. When you want to say yes you say, “Ummmmmm yes” or “Oh yes”. Never just “yes”. I think you are the slowest eater I have ever met (we are forever putting your meals in bags for the car or giving you a head start on dinner). 

When I snap at you, you come back later and say, “you were mad but not right now”.

Tonight at dinner, I was was explaining to you and Marcella how I would be working a 12 midnight to 7 am shift for the rest of the week. Ella asked me some questions, gave me a hug. You had been sitting at the other end of the table, head on your hand, nodding and smiling. At the end of my explanation of what happened, how Mama is needed at night, how I will come home and get you both ready for camp in the morning and sleep all day, until you and Ella wake me up after camp and then I will start my day, get you to bed and go back to work….you smiled at me and said, “I am eating rice.” Then you gave the toothiest grin.

Keeping it real. I love it.

These last few weeks, something incredibly sad happened in Israel. I won’t go into the details here. But lets just say, I treasure every little nuance, every grin and honestly, tonight, even the tantrum you threw at Sweet Frog when I wanted to put you in the car and let you finish your yogurt in the car. True to yourself you threw your head back and wailed, held your breath until turning red and refused the rest of your yogurt. I am so happy to have you both here with me, safe in our home. For whatever borrowed time I have with you, I am grateful. And I love you.

Yours, always, Mama.

5 years

Darling Marcella,

I don’t know what in the world I did with my life five years and one day ago….but the last five years have been so rich and full. I cannot imagine my life without you in it. It is like it just began 5 years ago today.

Sometimes I seem to hurry through life. Go here, do this, finish that. But last night I set aside time. I built a dollhouse. Daddy tried to help but….well, you know I am stubborn. For some reason it seemed like a girls gift. For some reason, I wanted to build it myself. Years from now, I don’t know if you will remember the dollhouse or what will come of it, but I will remember it.

As I built it I thought of the child I once was, playing with a doll house at Aunt Bette’s house in Nebraska. I could spend hours playing with it. The possibilities of life seemed endless to me then. So much has happened since, some pleasant and wonderful, some not so much. Like every parent, I suppose, I have a child and I want to impart all these lessons on you. Protect you from life harshness, but let you see it’s wonder. I want you to know what roads not to take without experiencing any skinned knees or heartache of your own. Teach you to be safe and smart and make wise decisions. Or make them for you while I can. Give you everything, without spoiling you at all. I guess I am still trying to make believe in some ways.

The thing is, I love you….beyond reasoning really. Enough to want to make the impossible seem probable. Enough to plan in hopes and dreams and wishes. Enough to open my heart back to that cozy space that was reserved for Aunt Bette’s warm kitchen, doll house, great big hugs and endless supply of Bess’ fudge. Parts of my heart that I thought were broken and swept away are aired out and quite full again. This is Love that is not because of something you do or don’t do. It just is here, for you, and always.

So about you, as a person….You are too smart. A little scary actually, how smart you are. Quite sensitive to sugar highs and lows. Gorgeous….incredibly gorgeous. Creative. Hilarious. A bit tempestuous, but mature enough to reason with if you aren’t overtired.  You are kind in a naturally sweet way rather than a learned way. You are strong but still sensitive behind that. For that I hope you know what I did not at your age. That your father and I love you, unconditionally, and no matter what.

I love you my sweet girl. I am yours,
Mama