I had the opportunity to hear (on the radio) Dr. Daniel Aldrich - Fulbright research fellow at the University of Tokyo's Economics Department - speak on the topic of disaster recovery. His family went through Katrina, so he has experienced disaster firsthand. He has also published a book and several articles on the research he's done on disasters.
The amazing - and, perhaps, not surprising - thing is that it all comes back to Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rogers told us to be good neighbors, and Dr. Aldrich has discovered that that is a key component in successful disaster recovery. Most of the people who save victim's lives are not first responders, but neighbors who know the habits of their neighbors. Neighbors who know there is an elderly person next door who might need help; neighbors who bring water; neighbors who inform newcomers to the neighborhood how to better protect themselves. People who know what other people need, are willing to give what is needed, are willing to accept what is being given, willing to trust that it is being given and received and used in the manner intended....
It's about people caring for other people - knowing other people - no matter of the religious background, socioeconomic background, educational background... At the core of disaster, one finds unity. One finds humanity. One finds the way it should be each and every day.
Unfortunately, it's not.
We're too busy worrying about our own - our own families, our own organizations, our own agendas - that we forget about being human and about caring for each other and about the power that comes from joining together. We are too consumed with competition and being the best and having the most, and we neglect to see that so much is lost.
We need a dose of mr. roger's advice - to be kind to our neighbors, to know our neighbors, and we need to pay attention to Dr. Aldrich's research findings - the neighborhoods that survive disasters best are the neighborhoods that came together and helped each other out. From studying the history of tragic disaster recovery, Dr. Aldrich provides a priceless message. I'm guessing if we applied the power of coming together before there is a disaster, we would be able to see the same benefits of unity, caring for each other, and making the world a better place.
September 25, 2012
September 4, 2012
Return, Return, Return
This is the mantra of the upcoming Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah. It is a time for Teshuva and a time when most Jews - even those who are not religiously observant during the year - will return, if even for a moment. What is it about this holiday that draws us back?
Teshuva means to return, and Rosh Hashanah is the perfect time to begin anew. It is time to take an accounting of the year - or years - that has/have passed. It is a time to recognize and accept responsibilities for our major blunders. It is a time to identify ways in which we want to grow, change, or adapt in the year to come.
The act of Teshuva - especially at this time of year - encourages us to come out of our holes, to commit to making life holy, and to make each moment a conscious moment. It allows us to leave behind that which does not suit us well. It is a directive to transform those things that have burdened us into things that will work for us.
It has been just over three years since my last post - my post about losing Cindy - an experience that changed my life. And, not necessarily, in a good way. Losing Cindy made me afraid, reluctant to love people, and - instead of making me more patient with my children, my husband, and the people I love - it made me impatient, rigid, and angry.
I tried - many times - to write. I have not been successful. I have only a few drafts that were never finished or remain unpublished from those three years. Most of my attempts are in the wastebasket under my desk.
This past Sunday, I attended a workshop titled Turn, Turn, Turn Teshuva 2012 led by Rabbi Elana Kanter of the Women's Jewish Learning Center. Teshuva, Teshuva, Teshuva. Return. Return. Return.
Even at the beginning of this three-hour workshop, I was struck by the notion of returning and the three paths of return that Rabbi Kanter identified. We turn back to ourselves. We turn back to our community. We turn back to G-d.
Return to Self
G-d can only be G-d, Rabbi Kanter said, if people make him G-d. And, immediately I thought of the story of the man in the flood (not Noah, the other lesser known man). There was a flood, and the man climbed up onto his rooftop to await G-d's help. His faith was strong, and he knew he'd be all right. When a boat passed by, he waved them on - as he continued to wait for G-d's help. As the waters crept higher, additional boats came by and, each time, the man graciously waved them on. G-d would come. When the waters rose too high, the man drowned. He came before G-d and demanded to know where G-d had been when he needed him. And, G-d's reply? "Why did you not get on the boats I sent to you?"
If we do not make G-d King, then G-d is not a King. This month - this month of Elul - is the easiest time to welcome G-d back as your King. The month of Elul is the month that the King comes out of His castle and roams the fields, opening His doors to His people.
If you want to get beyond something, you have to work at it - work really hard. And, then - after all that work - you have to take action. There is no sitting and waiting. Nothing goes away with mere anticipation.
When we return to G-d, we return to ourselves.
Return to Community
When we turn from ourselves, we also remove ourselves from our community. Even if we remain involved and connected, we are not present. When we form habits or take ourselves away - we grow accustomed to that way of being.
Rabbi Kanter asked the group to consider whether there was anything we do that used to give us pause but no longer gives us pause. I stopped going to shul when my children were young. They are not so young anymore - and it does still make me pause each week - but I don't do anything about it. Creating Parsha study at home is not the same as being a part of a davening community. I cannot allow my own 'pausing habits' to impact my children and what I desire for them.
I haven't written in three years. I think about it - a lot! I've tried to come back to it - a lot! It's not even that I have a following or have made my blog public at all, but writing is an external expression - a reflection of being part of something outside of yourself. Withdrawing from writing is withdrawing from life.
Return to G-d
This morning - in a class led by Esther Allouche - she shared an analogy of our relationship with G-d. Picture G-d as a large, thick pillar candle with its wick lit aflame. The light from this candle - or any candle, for that matter - is infinite and can light any number of candles without losing any light itself. So, G-d (this giant, pillar candle) lights the smaller, tapered candles (us) so that each of us has a burning, living piece of G-d within us. Esther also pointed out that the flame of a candle always reaches upward - even when it is upside down. Our light - is always reaching toward G-d. When the candle is standing still, the flame continues to waver and to dance. It never sits still - nor should we - especially when it comes to our relationship with G-d.
Returning to G-d involves making a meaningful connection. It becomes a process of setting aside your ego - over and over again. And living with purpose, intention. It's being an active participant.
Teshuva is a continual process of renewal, reconnection, and revamping. The month of Elul, Rosh Hashanah, the Days of Awe, and Yom Kippur are an especially powerful time for this deep introspection, renewed commitment, and extensive effort toward growth and change.
Return. Return. Return.
I will return.
In the midst of motherhood, you find your Self.
Teshuva means to return, and Rosh Hashanah is the perfect time to begin anew. It is time to take an accounting of the year - or years - that has/have passed. It is a time to recognize and accept responsibilities for our major blunders. It is a time to identify ways in which we want to grow, change, or adapt in the year to come.
The act of Teshuva - especially at this time of year - encourages us to come out of our holes, to commit to making life holy, and to make each moment a conscious moment. It allows us to leave behind that which does not suit us well. It is a directive to transform those things that have burdened us into things that will work for us.
It has been just over three years since my last post - my post about losing Cindy - an experience that changed my life. And, not necessarily, in a good way. Losing Cindy made me afraid, reluctant to love people, and - instead of making me more patient with my children, my husband, and the people I love - it made me impatient, rigid, and angry.
I tried - many times - to write. I have not been successful. I have only a few drafts that were never finished or remain unpublished from those three years. Most of my attempts are in the wastebasket under my desk.
This past Sunday, I attended a workshop titled Turn, Turn, Turn Teshuva 2012 led by Rabbi Elana Kanter of the Women's Jewish Learning Center. Teshuva, Teshuva, Teshuva. Return. Return. Return.
Even at the beginning of this three-hour workshop, I was struck by the notion of returning and the three paths of return that Rabbi Kanter identified. We turn back to ourselves. We turn back to our community. We turn back to G-d.
Return to Self
G-d can only be G-d, Rabbi Kanter said, if people make him G-d. And, immediately I thought of the story of the man in the flood (not Noah, the other lesser known man). There was a flood, and the man climbed up onto his rooftop to await G-d's help. His faith was strong, and he knew he'd be all right. When a boat passed by, he waved them on - as he continued to wait for G-d's help. As the waters crept higher, additional boats came by and, each time, the man graciously waved them on. G-d would come. When the waters rose too high, the man drowned. He came before G-d and demanded to know where G-d had been when he needed him. And, G-d's reply? "Why did you not get on the boats I sent to you?"
If we do not make G-d King, then G-d is not a King. This month - this month of Elul - is the easiest time to welcome G-d back as your King. The month of Elul is the month that the King comes out of His castle and roams the fields, opening His doors to His people.
If you want to get beyond something, you have to work at it - work really hard. And, then - after all that work - you have to take action. There is no sitting and waiting. Nothing goes away with mere anticipation.
When we return to G-d, we return to ourselves.
Return to Community
When we turn from ourselves, we also remove ourselves from our community. Even if we remain involved and connected, we are not present. When we form habits or take ourselves away - we grow accustomed to that way of being.
Rabbi Kanter asked the group to consider whether there was anything we do that used to give us pause but no longer gives us pause. I stopped going to shul when my children were young. They are not so young anymore - and it does still make me pause each week - but I don't do anything about it. Creating Parsha study at home is not the same as being a part of a davening community. I cannot allow my own 'pausing habits' to impact my children and what I desire for them.
I haven't written in three years. I think about it - a lot! I've tried to come back to it - a lot! It's not even that I have a following or have made my blog public at all, but writing is an external expression - a reflection of being part of something outside of yourself. Withdrawing from writing is withdrawing from life.
Return to G-d
This morning - in a class led by Esther Allouche - she shared an analogy of our relationship with G-d. Picture G-d as a large, thick pillar candle with its wick lit aflame. The light from this candle - or any candle, for that matter - is infinite and can light any number of candles without losing any light itself. So, G-d (this giant, pillar candle) lights the smaller, tapered candles (us) so that each of us has a burning, living piece of G-d within us. Esther also pointed out that the flame of a candle always reaches upward - even when it is upside down. Our light - is always reaching toward G-d. When the candle is standing still, the flame continues to waver and to dance. It never sits still - nor should we - especially when it comes to our relationship with G-d.
Returning to G-d involves making a meaningful connection. It becomes a process of setting aside your ego - over and over again. And living with purpose, intention. It's being an active participant.
Teshuva is a continual process of renewal, reconnection, and revamping. The month of Elul, Rosh Hashanah, the Days of Awe, and Yom Kippur are an especially powerful time for this deep introspection, renewed commitment, and extensive effort toward growth and change.
Return. Return. Return.
I will return.
In the midst of motherhood, you find your Self.
August 18, 2009
Saying Good-Bye
I'm sorry you never had the opportunity to meet my friend, Cindy. Cindy was the kind of person who brought 'good things' to everyone who crossed her path. It was a privilege knowing Cindy. It was an honor. She was a blessing in my life and in the lives of everyone she knew.
I just wish I knew she wasn't going to be here forever.
I wish I had called her more often. I wish I had set aside time to frequent the women's gatherings she put together. I wish we had had more in depth conversations about life, dreams, growing and struggling.
Cindy was an amazing woman. She was several years younger than me but she was one of those wise, old souls. Cindy approached every aspect of life with a desire to make it better, to better herself and to overcome any obstacle that stood before her. She was able to see the Divine residing in everyone. It is a gift many of us have not mastered.
Cindy was always looking up and around. Nothing was easy - because it had to be known thoroughly and embraced fully. Everywhere there was room for improvement. She worked so hard - at everything.
You still don't know her, do you?
She had a head of boing-boing brown curls and eyes that twinkled and a sense of humor to make anyone laugh. She analyzed, contemplated and tried to make sense of the world and all the things it presented her with. She was at home wherever she went and she went many places. She was outdoorsy; she didn't care what other people thought; she dressed the way she wanted to and not the way the magazines told her to.
I loved her because she was real and she was comfortable being real. Her insights could change your world, and they changed mine. Cindy was one of my friends who participated in a trial group of - then Mommymorphosis - now SWAK (sanity with a kid), a life coaching program designed to assist moms as they redefine and recreate themselves throughout the journey of motherhood.
We were talking about daily hiccups one day - those little, annoying things in your day that you cannot get rid of - and, somehow, a talk about sweeping the floor led to a discussion on negative self-talk. The entire program transformed before my eyes. Every conversation with Cindy was a MINDFUL CONVERSATION and that's the name of the book I wanted to write with Cindy. Now, I guess, I'll have to write it for her.
Cindy passed away from a heart condition - hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It was diagnosed during her third trimester of pregnancy, and she died a few weeks after giving birth to her second daughter - Ziva. She thought she would be on medicine the rest of her life. Perhaps she would need a heart transplant. She was feeling better when I spoke with her about a week after Ziva was born. She was in great spirits. She said "you should have seen me a few weeks ago". She was watching her daughter, Bella, swim with her husband, Peter and she was holding Ziva. "She's so precious". And then she had to go - motherly duties called - Bella and Peter were getting out of the pool. I made a note, then, to call her again soon - to be a better friend - to be a friend whose actions represented her feelings. She was such an important part of my life - even though our conversations were infrequent and our visits seemed to happen only when "one of us" got married.
Cindy passed away in Peter's arms. She was lying down because she did not feel well.
Cindy had a zest for life that anyone might envy. She had adventures all over the world. She was out of the box. She was Cindy.
I'm sorry you never had the opportunity to meet her. I hope, though, that you can learn from her.
I think my friend, Alisa, said it even better:
Dear Chevre, It is with deep sadness that I write to tell you about the death of Cindy Feldman Garaj, T47 and madricha for
I can still see Cindy with her wild head of curls, sitting on her bed in Tzvat when I walked in the door to what would be our home for the next three months. I had no idea that wild and wonderful woman would become a beloved friend, a confidante, and a constant reminder that life is meant to be lived with creativity and passion. Cindy found freedom in nature. She cared deeply about the people in her life, about living her life authentically and on her own terms. Everything she did had the creative stamp of Cindy-ness on it. I still have a hand-bound book she made and sent as a surprise. It was meant for us to write our dreams and wishes and we’d send it back and forth to each other. “Dear Alisa,” she writes, “Sometimes I wish for an easier life, but then I try to remember that there are lessons to learn…I guess the biggest struggle I am having is understanding how my attitude/personality effect those around me.” That’s so Cindy. She was driven not just by learning but by striving to always understand – to understand the true nature and needs of her family, of her friends, of her health and wellness (as a yoga instructor and massage therapist) and most often, Cindy in her own words struggled to understand how her life effected those around her and vice versa.
“May her memory be for a blessing.” One of the rabbis at Cindy’s funeral had never met Cindy, but in hearing stories from her family and friends, he understood that Cindy was a sparkling being. When she couldn’t find a mikvah in Aspen, CO, before her wedding, Cindy ‘made’ one in an ice-cold mountain stream in the parking lot of her hotel. When she traveled the world, she sincerely offered, “There’s always room in my backpack for you!” When she met her husband Peter, she found her best friend, mate and future. When she organized a womens’ weekend, the food was abundant, the paints and crayons everywhere to create when the spirit struck you and she was the first to start a spontaneous dance of joy to celebrate the beautiful surroundings. Cindy had a soul that could not be contained or bound by the physical. The rabbi at her funeral said for people who knew and loved her to share their memories about Cindy, and in telling stories from her brief yet full life, in giving her daughters a sense of who their mother was and how very special and unique she was and how very much she loved them – in sharing memories of Cindy, in taking a kind action and dedicating it to Cindy’s memory, in doing that – we would make her memory become a blessing.
At the same time that I, along with all who knew her, grieve a tragic loss, I know I am a better person for having had Cindy Feldman Garaj in my life and the very best way to honor her memory is to practice kindness, give and receive love, and squeeze every juicy moment out of life with creative fervor and zest! The best way to honor Cindy’s life is to make her memory a blessing.
February 21, 2009
Mother-Life Crisis
I may be in the midst of a mother-life crisis. There are people - like myself - who live lives of introspection. We like to analyze; we like to think; we like to look at the deeper picture. Frequently, within motherhood, the opportunity to go beneath the surface is not easily entered into. One can spend countless moments contemplating and trying to make spiritual the act of motherhood - childcare, meal preparation, housecleaning, laundry, bill paying, grocery shopping... but to really go within takes time, and time is something moms often do not have a lot of.
Thus enters the Mother-Life Crisis. The ages at which my children now sit make motherhood pass by like an action movie, the scenes go from one to the next with little down time in between. Only in motherhood, there's no ending where we get up stiff-legged from sitting for so long and throw our popcorn boxes in the trash on the way out. Instead, our legs are asleep from bouncing children on them, and the garbage detail is endless as we go from meals to snacks to ripping up paper to more snacks to the next meal to the next snack to cleaning up play doh...
In motherhood, there is always a next scene. We just watch, as the film unreels, from scene to scene - responding to a crisis, a task or a responsibility. Transition or filler scenes are few and far between. I'm not sure how long it's been since I've sat on our couch for a bit of rest and relaxation. It's a "piece" in our house I look at lovingly and longingly but rarely get to actually enjoy.
Creating rhythms and control within the chaos is one of my fortes, and yet - at the same time - I watch as life unfurls around me, bringing in something else that needs attention, mastery and initiation into our family's common rhythm. Sometimes, standing in the eye of the storm is a simple task, and - at other times - it becomes more difficult.
When my exclusive self - the one that flourishes deep inside - is being neglected, the chaos on the outside becomes less manageable. There are times this cannot be prevented and the spirit within must sit patiently waiting to be nurtured and attended to. Often, the weeks pass before the time has opened up again and - it is in those long periods of time - when the mother-life crisis can strike.
In those moments, we stoop down and we wonder what it's all about. What is the purpose? How can we achieve meaning when our pinball machine has too many balls in it? Too many bright lights, loud noises, fast action and unpredictable surprises. But, eventually, we let the ball slip through the flippers and it quiets down for a moment. Such is life. The high pace might last longer than a whirl on the pinball machine, but - eventually - the pace will slow down again. We can feel like we have control of the reigns again. Life comes back to a semblance of order.
Those low moments may not occur very often, but they are forceful and should be anticipated and planned for. If you are pensive and reflective as I am, your spirit cannot take long departures from attention. For me, the stirring within develops in symptoms without. Pay attention, my body beckons me. Ever so quietly, sometimes subtly, I begin to pay attention to my inner needs. I put myself first again.
Thus enters the Mother-Life Crisis. The ages at which my children now sit make motherhood pass by like an action movie, the scenes go from one to the next with little down time in between. Only in motherhood, there's no ending where we get up stiff-legged from sitting for so long and throw our popcorn boxes in the trash on the way out. Instead, our legs are asleep from bouncing children on them, and the garbage detail is endless as we go from meals to snacks to ripping up paper to more snacks to the next meal to the next snack to cleaning up play doh...
In motherhood, there is always a next scene. We just watch, as the film unreels, from scene to scene - responding to a crisis, a task or a responsibility. Transition or filler scenes are few and far between. I'm not sure how long it's been since I've sat on our couch for a bit of rest and relaxation. It's a "piece" in our house I look at lovingly and longingly but rarely get to actually enjoy.
Creating rhythms and control within the chaos is one of my fortes, and yet - at the same time - I watch as life unfurls around me, bringing in something else that needs attention, mastery and initiation into our family's common rhythm. Sometimes, standing in the eye of the storm is a simple task, and - at other times - it becomes more difficult.
When my exclusive self - the one that flourishes deep inside - is being neglected, the chaos on the outside becomes less manageable. There are times this cannot be prevented and the spirit within must sit patiently waiting to be nurtured and attended to. Often, the weeks pass before the time has opened up again and - it is in those long periods of time - when the mother-life crisis can strike.
In those moments, we stoop down and we wonder what it's all about. What is the purpose? How can we achieve meaning when our pinball machine has too many balls in it? Too many bright lights, loud noises, fast action and unpredictable surprises. But, eventually, we let the ball slip through the flippers and it quiets down for a moment. Such is life. The high pace might last longer than a whirl on the pinball machine, but - eventually - the pace will slow down again. We can feel like we have control of the reigns again. Life comes back to a semblance of order.
Those low moments may not occur very often, but they are forceful and should be anticipated and planned for. If you are pensive and reflective as I am, your spirit cannot take long departures from attention. For me, the stirring within develops in symptoms without. Pay attention, my body beckons me. Ever so quietly, sometimes subtly, I begin to pay attention to my inner needs. I put myself first again.
February 19, 2009
The State of Our Ecomomy*
Whether it's the radio, TV or newspaper, people everywhere are moaning about "the state of our economy". The economy reflects the wealth and resources of a country, and the conditions of our economy depend upon the careful management of available resources and the preservation of reserves.
Today on the radio, I overheard a conversation regarding the banking industry. The gentlemen on the radio show stated that they were "burning through our reserves". I'm not exactly sure what or who HE was talking about, but I started thinking about mothers.
With such an emphasis these days on "going green" and ensuring the sustainability of our resources for the future, I have a whole new approach to motherhood and the mastery of its complicated intricacies. A mother is like an economy. :) She must ensure the preservation of her resources and the maintenance of her reserves - patience, energy, innovation, and sanity, among other things.
The sustainability of mothers is, in my humble - humorous and sarcastic - opinion, a crisis of epidemic proportion. To provide for the present without compromising the ability to provide for the future is a major task for any mother.
To avoid a deficit of natural resources and the perpetuation of a successful ecomomy, it is essential for moms to plan ahead, think outside the box, and create strategies to build up reserves in the present. Preservation, sustainability, and energy crisis are all words that stand out in a mother's world.
It is time to set aside the guilt for taking time for herself and - even more so - moms need to dedicate time to figuring out what actions could help fill their reserve tanks - a commodity not needed for immediate use but readily available when required.
Our ecomomy may be in a state of crisis, but there is a lot we can do to prevent future depletions of energy... and patience... and sanity.
*it's not a misspelling
Today on the radio, I overheard a conversation regarding the banking industry. The gentlemen on the radio show stated that they were "burning through our reserves". I'm not exactly sure what or who HE was talking about, but I started thinking about mothers.
With such an emphasis these days on "going green" and ensuring the sustainability of our resources for the future, I have a whole new approach to motherhood and the mastery of its complicated intricacies. A mother is like an economy. :) She must ensure the preservation of her resources and the maintenance of her reserves - patience, energy, innovation, and sanity, among other things.
The sustainability of mothers is, in my humble - humorous and sarcastic - opinion, a crisis of epidemic proportion. To provide for the present without compromising the ability to provide for the future is a major task for any mother.
To avoid a deficit of natural resources and the perpetuation of a successful ecomomy, it is essential for moms to plan ahead, think outside the box, and create strategies to build up reserves in the present. Preservation, sustainability, and energy crisis are all words that stand out in a mother's world.
It is time to set aside the guilt for taking time for herself and - even more so - moms need to dedicate time to figuring out what actions could help fill their reserve tanks - a commodity not needed for immediate use but readily available when required.
Our ecomomy may be in a state of crisis, but there is a lot we can do to prevent future depletions of energy... and patience... and sanity.
*it's not a misspelling
January 31, 2009
48 Hours
Last Monday, I went to the ER with ilan for breathing problems. We came home around 1am.
He stayed home from school on Tuesday, returned on Wednesday and stayed home on Thursday and Friday. He was still just not back up to par and not himself and not at 100%.
Throughout those days and throughout the following week, we nebulized when he seemed to need it, worried – mostly at night – that he still wasn’t up to 100% and tried to do some other things to help out – like take it easy, lower our dairy intake and run a humidifier at night.
When his teacher emailed to say she told him to stop running at recess because he was wheezing, I called a chiropractic allergist who is using an applied kiniesiology technique to eliminate allergies. What could it hurt? I am feeling very apprehensive about pumping steroids and meds and inhalers into his body to get him through these episodes.
We had one treatment at the Chiro allergist. We eliminated something that we will not notice the immediate results from. The only “side effect” is that once you eliminate one allergy, other allergies may become stronger because the body moves its attention there.
So, today, the day after the treatment, the school nurse calls me because Ilan feels sick. No fever but his stomach and head hurt. I’m certain it’s related to the respiratory stuff going on. And, I say I’ll come get him…..
Oh… but before all this –
Yesterday, when the teacher emailed me, I called the chiro right away and they said they could get him in that afternoon. It would be easier – they reminded me – if I could bring him alone. I called one friend and she would take Aaron, assuming he would go with her. I had another friend’s son here for the afternoon while she went to Walmart and she said she could take my son home with her… so that’s what she did. Then I just had Ellie to worry about. I did make a few calls – all in the 45 minutes before I had to get the boys from school – but nothing panned out.
It was 3:30 – I should have left to get the boys already and my one friend called. No one picked her girls up from their school so she had to go get them. I said no problem, I’d get Isaac on my way to King David. That’s what I did. Before I arrived at KDS, my other friend called and said Aaron was standing in the corner and wouldn’t go with her, nor would he talk to her.
Apparently, his glasses broke during school. I’m sure this changed his whole day. It also meant we’d have to go to the glasses store because his back-up pair were already broken. But, not that afternoon. So, in a matter of minutes, I was taking everyone with to the chiro.
And, then, our babysitter called. She was one of the people I had left a message for. “Is it too late?” she asked. Perfect timing, I said, I ‘ll meet you at my house. I left Isaac, Ellie and Aaron with Amber and took Ilan (alone) to the chiro.
The appointment – of course – took longer than I thought. It was really dinner time when I was on my way home. David was home. Amber was gone. We went for pizza so, of course, we got home late – baths were not given (luckily Amber bathed Isaac and Ellie earlier that day) and homework was done Scout’s honor while I put Ellie to bed.
So, this morning….
I drop off Aaron at school. David drove Ilan. We arrived within minutes of each other. Ellie, Isaac and I went to the Kosher Market to get a few last minute things for Shabbat. However, I later realized I forgot to get chicken. I took Ellie to school, dropped the groceries off at home, and took Isaac to the ENT to check the fluid levels in his ears. He had a hearing test and his levels and hearing are fine right now. We’ll go back and check again in a few months. I drove with Isaac to pick up Aaron at school. We drove Isaac to school and then I took Aaron to get his glasses fixed and pick out a new pair. After that, I drove Aaron back to school, raced home and cooked as much as I could (a noodle dish, a cake, and a white gazpacho), went back to get Isaac and Ellie at school.
On my way, I received a call from King David. Ilan was in the office with a headache and a stomach ache, no fever (as I said above). I said I’d be there but I was on the way to get the little people so it would be a little while. I got Isaac and Ellie and stopped at Trader Joe’s before heading to KDS (shhhhh). We needed to get chicken for Shabbos or there would be no Shabbos (at this point, I was thinking there wouldn’t be any Shabbos anyway).
I went to get Ilan, trying to call the doctor’s office on the way. With the weekend coming up and breathing being an issue, I didn’t want to wait to see what happened. When I called the doc office at 1:36, the answering service was still connected despite their lunch ending at 1:30. Ilan got in the car. I sat in the parking lot – thinking I’d take Aaron too so I didn’t have to come back AGAIN, but I was waiting to see when the appointment would be.
It was at 2:40. I got Aaron too. With four children, we headed to the doctor – first stopping at home to get milk for Ellie, water for Isaac, put the chicken in the fridge
(marinated it first). I made them all wait in the car.
We went to the doc and Ilan is “fine”, meaning he doesn’t have a virus or anything contagious. Based on his last year’s visits, we noted that he has been on steroids for breathing four times in the last year – that’s a lot! This seasonal change seems to get to him. So, he’s on a steroid, and he’s on Singulair for the next few months until we go back in for a check up.
He’s also going back to the chiro for allergy elimination (I told the doc and she was gung ho) and my hope is that he won’t need Singulair or steroids or a nebulizer. Needless to say, by the time we returned from the doctor – Shabbat was nearly on its way in. Thankfully, most of my Shabbos lunch dishes could be put together on Saturday morning. I ended up throwing rice in the rice cooker, chicken nuggets in the oven – David had chicken I had taken out of the freezer when the craziness came upon us and that was Shabbos dinner.
Shabbos morning, as I’m finishing prep for our lunch meal (including guests), Aaron tells me he has a sore throat. He has just finished his antibiotic for strep throat. I had to call our guests and tell them we were bound for the doctor at 11:30. At 12:45, I had to call and tell them that our lunch was cancelled, but – please – could they come by and pick up food to take home with them.
Oh, this may just seem like a crazy day (48 hours) to you but – don’t forget – in the midst of all of this, there was chasing after ellie and her catastrophes, cleaning the bathroom for guest readiness, vacuuming the floor, cleaning the dining room still dirty from last week’s shabbos, doing the laundry from ellie’s peed on crib sheets, unloading three loads of dishes from the dishwasher so I could load the dinner dishes and get them out of the way, so I could clean the kitchen, dealing with whining children, fighting children, getting children dressed, putting toys away, cleaning ellie’s cottage cheese from the floor, cleaning ellie’s pistachios spilled on the purple couch…….
AND, the week prior – when my husband was out of town – I had an eye doctor appointment to check the pressure in my eye, a mammogram that came back ‘bad enough’ to warrant an ultrasound (everything’s fine), a back to back ear infection for our three-year old, strep throat for the 6-year old, an asthma attack to the emergency room on the Monday after my husband came back with the 7-year old…. So, we’re already coming off of a crazy week.
My car is littered with the backs of stickers, given to us from the many doctor visits. Thankfully, we bought the boys' furniture at Walmart because the fronts (and now the sides) are covered with stickers from every doctor's visit we have ever had. This week has put us over the top. We are going to need to buy a new dresser lest the boys start putting their stickers on the wall (next to the holes they made when they were fixing the wall with their toy hammers).
I am not complaining. I felt this merely needed to be recorded as living testimony that I CAN do it all – whatever all means, in any given situation. ☺ I need to have this down so that I can reread it in moments of quiet to remind myself what I need to be prepared for, to be thankful for the nights when I have time to fold laundry and grateful for the days when all I have to do is clean, shop and make meals.
He stayed home from school on Tuesday, returned on Wednesday and stayed home on Thursday and Friday. He was still just not back up to par and not himself and not at 100%.
Throughout those days and throughout the following week, we nebulized when he seemed to need it, worried – mostly at night – that he still wasn’t up to 100% and tried to do some other things to help out – like take it easy, lower our dairy intake and run a humidifier at night.
When his teacher emailed to say she told him to stop running at recess because he was wheezing, I called a chiropractic allergist who is using an applied kiniesiology technique to eliminate allergies. What could it hurt? I am feeling very apprehensive about pumping steroids and meds and inhalers into his body to get him through these episodes.
We had one treatment at the Chiro allergist. We eliminated something that we will not notice the immediate results from. The only “side effect” is that once you eliminate one allergy, other allergies may become stronger because the body moves its attention there.
So, today, the day after the treatment, the school nurse calls me because Ilan feels sick. No fever but his stomach and head hurt. I’m certain it’s related to the respiratory stuff going on. And, I say I’ll come get him…..
Oh… but before all this –
Yesterday, when the teacher emailed me, I called the chiro right away and they said they could get him in that afternoon. It would be easier – they reminded me – if I could bring him alone. I called one friend and she would take Aaron, assuming he would go with her. I had another friend’s son here for the afternoon while she went to Walmart and she said she could take my son home with her… so that’s what she did. Then I just had Ellie to worry about. I did make a few calls – all in the 45 minutes before I had to get the boys from school – but nothing panned out.
It was 3:30 – I should have left to get the boys already and my one friend called. No one picked her girls up from their school so she had to go get them. I said no problem, I’d get Isaac on my way to King David. That’s what I did. Before I arrived at KDS, my other friend called and said Aaron was standing in the corner and wouldn’t go with her, nor would he talk to her.
Apparently, his glasses broke during school. I’m sure this changed his whole day. It also meant we’d have to go to the glasses store because his back-up pair were already broken. But, not that afternoon. So, in a matter of minutes, I was taking everyone with to the chiro.
And, then, our babysitter called. She was one of the people I had left a message for. “Is it too late?” she asked. Perfect timing, I said, I ‘ll meet you at my house. I left Isaac, Ellie and Aaron with Amber and took Ilan (alone) to the chiro.
The appointment – of course – took longer than I thought. It was really dinner time when I was on my way home. David was home. Amber was gone. We went for pizza so, of course, we got home late – baths were not given (luckily Amber bathed Isaac and Ellie earlier that day) and homework was done Scout’s honor while I put Ellie to bed.
So, this morning….
I drop off Aaron at school. David drove Ilan. We arrived within minutes of each other. Ellie, Isaac and I went to the Kosher Market to get a few last minute things for Shabbat. However, I later realized I forgot to get chicken. I took Ellie to school, dropped the groceries off at home, and took Isaac to the ENT to check the fluid levels in his ears. He had a hearing test and his levels and hearing are fine right now. We’ll go back and check again in a few months. I drove with Isaac to pick up Aaron at school. We drove Isaac to school and then I took Aaron to get his glasses fixed and pick out a new pair. After that, I drove Aaron back to school, raced home and cooked as much as I could (a noodle dish, a cake, and a white gazpacho), went back to get Isaac and Ellie at school.
On my way, I received a call from King David. Ilan was in the office with a headache and a stomach ache, no fever (as I said above). I said I’d be there but I was on the way to get the little people so it would be a little while. I got Isaac and Ellie and stopped at Trader Joe’s before heading to KDS (shhhhh). We needed to get chicken for Shabbos or there would be no Shabbos (at this point, I was thinking there wouldn’t be any Shabbos anyway).
I went to get Ilan, trying to call the doctor’s office on the way. With the weekend coming up and breathing being an issue, I didn’t want to wait to see what happened. When I called the doc office at 1:36, the answering service was still connected despite their lunch ending at 1:30. Ilan got in the car. I sat in the parking lot – thinking I’d take Aaron too so I didn’t have to come back AGAIN, but I was waiting to see when the appointment would be.
It was at 2:40. I got Aaron too. With four children, we headed to the doctor – first stopping at home to get milk for Ellie, water for Isaac, put the chicken in the fridge
(marinated it first). I made them all wait in the car.
We went to the doc and Ilan is “fine”, meaning he doesn’t have a virus or anything contagious. Based on his last year’s visits, we noted that he has been on steroids for breathing four times in the last year – that’s a lot! This seasonal change seems to get to him. So, he’s on a steroid, and he’s on Singulair for the next few months until we go back in for a check up.
He’s also going back to the chiro for allergy elimination (I told the doc and she was gung ho) and my hope is that he won’t need Singulair or steroids or a nebulizer. Needless to say, by the time we returned from the doctor – Shabbat was nearly on its way in. Thankfully, most of my Shabbos lunch dishes could be put together on Saturday morning. I ended up throwing rice in the rice cooker, chicken nuggets in the oven – David had chicken I had taken out of the freezer when the craziness came upon us and that was Shabbos dinner.
Shabbos morning, as I’m finishing prep for our lunch meal (including guests), Aaron tells me he has a sore throat. He has just finished his antibiotic for strep throat. I had to call our guests and tell them we were bound for the doctor at 11:30. At 12:45, I had to call and tell them that our lunch was cancelled, but – please – could they come by and pick up food to take home with them.
Oh, this may just seem like a crazy day (48 hours) to you but – don’t forget – in the midst of all of this, there was chasing after ellie and her catastrophes, cleaning the bathroom for guest readiness, vacuuming the floor, cleaning the dining room still dirty from last week’s shabbos, doing the laundry from ellie’s peed on crib sheets, unloading three loads of dishes from the dishwasher so I could load the dinner dishes and get them out of the way, so I could clean the kitchen, dealing with whining children, fighting children, getting children dressed, putting toys away, cleaning ellie’s cottage cheese from the floor, cleaning ellie’s pistachios spilled on the purple couch…….
AND, the week prior – when my husband was out of town – I had an eye doctor appointment to check the pressure in my eye, a mammogram that came back ‘bad enough’ to warrant an ultrasound (everything’s fine), a back to back ear infection for our three-year old, strep throat for the 6-year old, an asthma attack to the emergency room on the Monday after my husband came back with the 7-year old…. So, we’re already coming off of a crazy week.
My car is littered with the backs of stickers, given to us from the many doctor visits. Thankfully, we bought the boys' furniture at Walmart because the fronts (and now the sides) are covered with stickers from every doctor's visit we have ever had. This week has put us over the top. We are going to need to buy a new dresser lest the boys start putting their stickers on the wall (next to the holes they made when they were fixing the wall with their toy hammers).
I am not complaining. I felt this merely needed to be recorded as living testimony that I CAN do it all – whatever all means, in any given situation. ☺ I need to have this down so that I can reread it in moments of quiet to remind myself what I need to be prepared for, to be thankful for the nights when I have time to fold laundry and grateful for the days when all I have to do is clean, shop and make meals.
January 29, 2009
Mama
I often feel guilty or wrong or pity-seeking when I make my claim that motherhood stress is harder than job stress. Having been in - both - the working world and the parenting world - I feel like I have solid evidence for my assertion.
Real world stress does not compare to parental stress and maybe that's the final answer. They are two different things. With "real world" stress, you don't often feel guilty for treating a loved one in a way that you would never treat a stranger, or a boss or a co-worker. In the "real world", there are deadlines and budgets and competition and loads of work to get done in a day that is too short. In a mother's reality, there are time constraints and fiscal planning and too little hours in a day to get it all done.
But, at the end of the day - does it matter how much money we brought home or how much we achieved at work? When we pass before G-d after we die, what is it that we are asked? We are judged by how we lived our lives. The pressure, then, for a mother (and father) to ensure that their children live lives filled with good decisions, actions of integrity and meaningful purpose is immense. Not to mention the anxiety when we do not live up to our own expectations and when we do not model that which we want our children to see.
I contemplate the roles of mothers - frequently. I think, as I have in the past, about mothers of yesteryear who had to chop the wood to make a fire to warm the water to wash their hands... and I think about motherhood now. Our roles may be different - difficult in new ways - but the dedication of motherhood is the same year after year.
That devotion is immense in the early years when children are completely dependent upon their parents. Then the children grow up, and a new level of freedom is reached. You observe mothers beginning to do things for themselves - like working out on a regular basis and at a normal time, or going back to school or starting a new job. But, you see them taking time for themselves.
At first, I thought I would feel guilty doing "nothing". And, lately, I realize you have to look at the big picture before you make a judgment. A mother is often nothing but a mother in the early and middle years of her children's lives. The mother part never ends - mom always has to be there - for heartbreaks and simcha planning and surgeries and the birth of grandchildren and anything else that happens in her children's lives.
When the children are older, there is a bit of a reprieve - brief as it may be. There may be a few years, and then mom jumps right back in. This time, perhaps, as grandma. And I see my mom helping out my brothers and I with babysitting and worrying and taking care of things. I also see my mom taking care of her father and my father's mother, both - thank G-d who are in their mid 90's and doing very well. But, they still have greater needs now that they are older and more doctor's appointments. My mom is their caretaker and their chauffeur and their manager and their scheduler...
Her days are filled again with phone calls to check in and driving to appointments and contacting doctors for test results and referrals - between babysitting for her grandchildren, listening to her daughter across the miles ache about her day, having lunch with a friend and - maybe - sitting down to read a book. Her days are often not her own.
Thanks, Mom.... for being my mom... and teaching me - really - truly - what motherhood is supposed to look like.
Once a mom, always a mom. There's no going back.
Real world stress does not compare to parental stress and maybe that's the final answer. They are two different things. With "real world" stress, you don't often feel guilty for treating a loved one in a way that you would never treat a stranger, or a boss or a co-worker. In the "real world", there are deadlines and budgets and competition and loads of work to get done in a day that is too short. In a mother's reality, there are time constraints and fiscal planning and too little hours in a day to get it all done.
But, at the end of the day - does it matter how much money we brought home or how much we achieved at work? When we pass before G-d after we die, what is it that we are asked? We are judged by how we lived our lives. The pressure, then, for a mother (and father) to ensure that their children live lives filled with good decisions, actions of integrity and meaningful purpose is immense. Not to mention the anxiety when we do not live up to our own expectations and when we do not model that which we want our children to see.
I contemplate the roles of mothers - frequently. I think, as I have in the past, about mothers of yesteryear who had to chop the wood to make a fire to warm the water to wash their hands... and I think about motherhood now. Our roles may be different - difficult in new ways - but the dedication of motherhood is the same year after year.
That devotion is immense in the early years when children are completely dependent upon their parents. Then the children grow up, and a new level of freedom is reached. You observe mothers beginning to do things for themselves - like working out on a regular basis and at a normal time, or going back to school or starting a new job. But, you see them taking time for themselves.
At first, I thought I would feel guilty doing "nothing". And, lately, I realize you have to look at the big picture before you make a judgment. A mother is often nothing but a mother in the early and middle years of her children's lives. The mother part never ends - mom always has to be there - for heartbreaks and simcha planning and surgeries and the birth of grandchildren and anything else that happens in her children's lives.
When the children are older, there is a bit of a reprieve - brief as it may be. There may be a few years, and then mom jumps right back in. This time, perhaps, as grandma. And I see my mom helping out my brothers and I with babysitting and worrying and taking care of things. I also see my mom taking care of her father and my father's mother, both - thank G-d who are in their mid 90's and doing very well. But, they still have greater needs now that they are older and more doctor's appointments. My mom is their caretaker and their chauffeur and their manager and their scheduler...
Her days are filled again with phone calls to check in and driving to appointments and contacting doctors for test results and referrals - between babysitting for her grandchildren, listening to her daughter across the miles ache about her day, having lunch with a friend and - maybe - sitting down to read a book. Her days are often not her own.
Thanks, Mom.... for being my mom... and teaching me - really - truly - what motherhood is supposed to look like.
Once a mom, always a mom. There's no going back.
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