I've been thinking about Part Three of this story for weeks. Finding so much I want to say and then wondering if everything I plan to write is lies, or at least a skewed way of thinking about things. And I've been stymied about how to write this part of the story in a way that honors and respects my parents. What is written below doesn't really convey the angst of this change in my life. I still have days where I just don't know what happened.
My grandmother, my father's mother, left school at 12 years old, I've been told, to care for her new baby brother. That's how old Gabi is now. Then she went back and did a secretarial or business course, and worked until she married. She told me, I am pretty sure, that she and Grandpa were very pleased she did not have to work after they got married, that this was very important to them, a point of pride, that he supported her. Of course, she worked like crazy at home - her home was spotless and she was a consummate homemaker. Every morning, she fresh squeezed Grandpa orange juice.
My mother, her daughter-in-law, was the first woman in her family to go to college. Her own mother wanted her to go to secretarial school. She got a Ph.D.
I grew up between these two formidable women. Grandma has been gone 20 years but her presence is very real in my life. She was my only grandparent for 22 years after my grandfather, her husband died. (My mother's parents had died relatively young - my grandmother before I was born and my grandfather when I was 4.)
My parents were super happy to be parents and often talked about how important it was to them to have children. But at the same time, I felt that their work was more important to them than anything else, or maybe more that work was what defined a person's identity.
I noticed how deep my feelings about this run when I was on my first maternity leave. Since I gave birth late, I had been out of college and working full time or in graduate school for like 20 years. On maternity leave, my identity was "mom", but sometimes it felt more like "milk cow" and I noticed how hard it was to feel good about myself in that circumstance.
So when I figured out last year, in the wake of my illness and Vlad's death, that I really wanted to "make the main thing the main thing" and to be home more, to focus on my kids and to have the flexibility to travel more and see my parents more, to be available to my partner and to maintaining our home, it was very confusing to me, because it has meant giving up a professional identity that has been really important to me for 30 years and a career I have had for 20 years. This is the first time in well over 30 years that I am not either a) working for a non-profit organization or b) a full time student or c) both.
What I miss most about my former job is my colleagues and the professional identity. I can't believe I chose this kind of disconnected freedom. My feelings are not so closely connected with earning money or working, because I've been working pretty much every day since I left my job. I have work. What I don't have is a job. I opened a business so I can get paid, and I am trying to earn a certain amount and to be fully employed by the work I am doing, but I don't see myself as "building a business", I just see myself as working for myself and for clients who choose me to work for them. It's much looser, less connected, and less demanding than what I have done before. It feels oddly relaxed.
Then there are the dishes. And cooking. And homework, 4th grade homework. The grocery shopping, the orthodontist appointments, the prescriptions, the taxes, and the house. I wish I liked housework. I don't like it any better than I did before I quit my job. I will never be my grandmother. But I do a bit more of it. And I cook dinner every night, and do the dishes, and walk the dog, and don't feel exhausted. I have time to notice my children and feel good about them - to listen to what they have to say and to try to respond to what they need. I am way more relaxed at home. I can say yes more often.
I saw a woman with a beautiful dog a few weeks ago, and she was saying how they might give the dog up because they didn't have time to walk it as much as it needed. I figured if my lifestyle didn't work for my dog, it was time to change my lifestyle. Thanks Popeye.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Sunday, November 8, 2015
What Happened - Part Two
Here goes with Part Two of the story:
Insomnia. Ever heard of it? If you are menopausal, or even peri-menopausal, you probably have. It's part of life for many people, I believe I inherited a tendency to it from my mother, and it got worse when I hit my late 40s, early 50s. I think my mistake was believing it was something I had to learn to live with, instead of something I had to actively work against.
By the time I wound up in hospital, I had been losing 2-3 hours of sleep for up to 10 nights a month for a couple of years. I would wake up in the night, and then my washing-machine mind would start churning. It was almost always about work, or stuff I had to do. And after learning from coaching that I needed to work harder, and losing a couple of assistants in short order, I got the bright idea that if I was up in the night anyway, I might as well go to the computer and work. Bad idea.
When Vlad died I had a lot of insomnia (just as I had had when my mother in law died years before), and with all the health problems I was having, the doctor put me on sleeping pills which I took for a short time. When a random stranger told me I was having sleep problems, and I learned that part of fibromyalgia is a sleep disorder, I started really working at sleeping by exercising in the morning, going to bed early, and most importantly, making myself stop my washing-machine mind through prayer and meditation and telling myself I was going back to sleep. It worked, but I had to be very strict with myself. No getting out of bed! No ruminating!
When I went back to work in December 2014, I had just started on hormones and was not feeling a whole lot better. I mean, I got my sleep back, so that was good, and I was exercising every day, so my heart felt better. I still had headache and fibromyalgia issues, and I still had the cognitive issues (aka brain fog) which are part of fibromyalgia. One reason I went back to work was because I didn't know if I would ever feel better and if I wasn't going to get better I wanted to stretch my sick leave for as long as possible. So I went to work 3 hours a day in December and 5 hours a day in January. I found out what it was like to be home in the afternoon, and I found out what it was like to say, "no, I can't make that meeting, go ahead and schedule it without me."
I told my boss I was not sure about my future in my job. I took back most of my job but I didn't teach and I didn't work in the evenings or early mornings (like I had done for a decade). That relates to another cause of the changes in my life - the kids. Everyone thinks little kids are the hardest, but little kids go to bed, and if you are lucky, at least a few nights a week, you can count on your brain still being awake when they go to sleep. But all of a sudden I was going to bed early and my kids were going to bed later, and working at night started to seem less and less attractive or possible.
In February, I went back to work sort of full time (my old at the office schedule, without the evening and early morning and middle of the night hours). And that week my boss was terminated. I had spent two and half years learning the best ways to work with him, and I had a lot of respect for his vision. But now he was leaving. They say when you get a new boss, not only does your boss get a new job, you get a new job.
It became immediately apparent that my goals for my time and what my job needed were not going to be compatible. My new boss was in New York, which meant meetings that started at 4 pm Israel time, exactly the hour I was trying to be home for my kids. My boss who was leaving had done the fundraising solicitations - I wanted to do them, but that too required phone work in the late afternoons and evenings.
I did what everyone recommends - look for a job when you have a job, it's easier to find one that way. I went on some interviews and some informational interviews. These clarified a few things for me. And I also realized something - I could not walk out of a job I had held for 14 years and walk right into something else. I needed time to say goodbye, and I wanted a break. After losing both my in-laws, I wanted my kids to see their grandparents. I wanted to see my aunts and uncles. I saw how many family members Alen had lost in a short time, and I imagined what the next decade might be like in my extended family. I wanted to put these things first, now, while they are possible.
So, I made a plan to give two months notice and to take my kids for six weeks with their grandparents and a week in London to see my aunt and uncle. My last day of work was a Thursday. On Sunday, Gabi graduated from 6th grade and on Monday I was on a plane with the two kids.
That's part two. Time for bed. There will be a part three, and who knows how many more????
Insomnia. Ever heard of it? If you are menopausal, or even peri-menopausal, you probably have. It's part of life for many people, I believe I inherited a tendency to it from my mother, and it got worse when I hit my late 40s, early 50s. I think my mistake was believing it was something I had to learn to live with, instead of something I had to actively work against.
By the time I wound up in hospital, I had been losing 2-3 hours of sleep for up to 10 nights a month for a couple of years. I would wake up in the night, and then my washing-machine mind would start churning. It was almost always about work, or stuff I had to do. And after learning from coaching that I needed to work harder, and losing a couple of assistants in short order, I got the bright idea that if I was up in the night anyway, I might as well go to the computer and work. Bad idea.
When Vlad died I had a lot of insomnia (just as I had had when my mother in law died years before), and with all the health problems I was having, the doctor put me on sleeping pills which I took for a short time. When a random stranger told me I was having sleep problems, and I learned that part of fibromyalgia is a sleep disorder, I started really working at sleeping by exercising in the morning, going to bed early, and most importantly, making myself stop my washing-machine mind through prayer and meditation and telling myself I was going back to sleep. It worked, but I had to be very strict with myself. No getting out of bed! No ruminating!
When I went back to work in December 2014, I had just started on hormones and was not feeling a whole lot better. I mean, I got my sleep back, so that was good, and I was exercising every day, so my heart felt better. I still had headache and fibromyalgia issues, and I still had the cognitive issues (aka brain fog) which are part of fibromyalgia. One reason I went back to work was because I didn't know if I would ever feel better and if I wasn't going to get better I wanted to stretch my sick leave for as long as possible. So I went to work 3 hours a day in December and 5 hours a day in January. I found out what it was like to be home in the afternoon, and I found out what it was like to say, "no, I can't make that meeting, go ahead and schedule it without me."
I told my boss I was not sure about my future in my job. I took back most of my job but I didn't teach and I didn't work in the evenings or early mornings (like I had done for a decade). That relates to another cause of the changes in my life - the kids. Everyone thinks little kids are the hardest, but little kids go to bed, and if you are lucky, at least a few nights a week, you can count on your brain still being awake when they go to sleep. But all of a sudden I was going to bed early and my kids were going to bed later, and working at night started to seem less and less attractive or possible.
In February, I went back to work sort of full time (my old at the office schedule, without the evening and early morning and middle of the night hours). And that week my boss was terminated. I had spent two and half years learning the best ways to work with him, and I had a lot of respect for his vision. But now he was leaving. They say when you get a new boss, not only does your boss get a new job, you get a new job.
It became immediately apparent that my goals for my time and what my job needed were not going to be compatible. My new boss was in New York, which meant meetings that started at 4 pm Israel time, exactly the hour I was trying to be home for my kids. My boss who was leaving had done the fundraising solicitations - I wanted to do them, but that too required phone work in the late afternoons and evenings.
I did what everyone recommends - look for a job when you have a job, it's easier to find one that way. I went on some interviews and some informational interviews. These clarified a few things for me. And I also realized something - I could not walk out of a job I had held for 14 years and walk right into something else. I needed time to say goodbye, and I wanted a break. After losing both my in-laws, I wanted my kids to see their grandparents. I wanted to see my aunts and uncles. I saw how many family members Alen had lost in a short time, and I imagined what the next decade might be like in my extended family. I wanted to put these things first, now, while they are possible.
So, I made a plan to give two months notice and to take my kids for six weeks with their grandparents and a week in London to see my aunt and uncle. My last day of work was a Thursday. On Sunday, Gabi graduated from 6th grade and on Monday I was on a plane with the two kids.
That's part two. Time for bed. There will be a part three, and who knows how many more????
Thursday, November 5, 2015
What Happened - Part 1
Because it's been a year of incredible change, and because there has to be a time when I stop, and look back, and put some form on the story, make it a narrative and have, not closure but a vantage point, I've been feeling the need to write this post. For friends and family and people who might learn something from it that they want to learn, but mostly for me.
I decided the story should really begin about two and a half years ago in the spring of 2013 when two things happened - I became set to be the "last man standing" of a three person team that had run my workplace for a decade, and that same week I got the opportunity to receive free coaching from someone who was training to be a coach. My coaching goal was to put myself in the best possible position to succeed with the changes that were happening at my work.
A few things stand out from the coaching, which was on the whole enjoyable and inspiring. One was that my coach had me make a list of what I loved about my job. It filled a page, and when I read it to him, he said there were probably few people on earth who loved their jobs as much. The other was that he had me track my time from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed on two full days. In this, I discovered that I spent almost no time speaking to my partner or doing anything with her. Like less than 10 minutes of each day was being devoted to the person I love and have committed my life to.
I asked my coach about work/life balance and he admitted he had yet to figure that one out. He was a workaholic who stayed up late a lot trying to find more hours in the day. I figured that probably wouldn't work for me, but took his advice to work harder. I forgot that a 50 something man and a 50 something woman don't live in the same physiological universe.
That was May 2013 and in the months that followed I tried to internalize what I had learned, while coping with external circumstances. I tried to force myself out of the office at 3 pm two days a week (it worked for about 8 weeks maybe) to make my partner happy, and at the same time to deal with a ridiculous level of turnover in support staff. I had some wonderful student interns that year and I continued to work hard and be hopeful of success.
In the summer of 2014 we had a war, my father in law Vlad became ill, and I took only a short vacation. After the vacation, Alen went to see her father, I came home with the kids, and our boss put us on a new project management system, Asana. With this, I was going to organize my entire world. I made lists of home projects and work projects, assigned tasks to my colleagues and was sure I had things under control. I also had a lingering infection and over Sukkot developed sudden shoulder and chest pain, high blood pressure, intense headaches, and the anxiety that one would have in such a situation.
After going back and forth to the emergency room a few times and a short hospital stay, my heart checked out and they said, "stress." I said, "What do you mean, stress is my middle name, I have lived like this for years." Right up until menopause, that is.
My mother told me that regular exercise was the key to stopping the menopause related heart irregularities that run in our family (my sister got them just a bit after me). While I was in hospital we adopted a dog and from the day I got out I have walked every day. This walking slowly changed my life completely.
When I got out of the hospital I stayed home for a week like they told me, and when I got back to work my boss asked me if I needed to take some time off and I was like, "I just did." But by then Vlad was in hospital in Trinidad and after I was back at work for a week, Alen called me at work and said she had to fly out. She got on a plane with Gabi, who insisted on seeing her grandfather, and they were at Vlad's bedside the day he died, which was one year ago. I was here with Sasha and the dog, not sleeping, and with a headache that lasted 6-8 weeks (finally turning out to be an atypical migraine brought on by, you guessed it, menopause).
I stayed out of work for a month and thought a lot about my father in law. The best years of his life were the last ones, when he lived with his son and his family, saw his grandchildren every day, went sailing with his sons, cooked meals and listened to his favorite music. I thought about what could be learned from his life and about what it really means to put family first. I doubted whether I could continue to be the person I had been at work. One of the scariest parts of my illness was losing my ability for complex thinking and handling complex tasks. I could not teach and if someone wanted to talk about something complicated I had to ask them to write it down.
Over the course of these week of trying to provide emotional support to my family, grieving, medical appointments, receiving tons of support from the community, and learning to take care of myself, I lost my desire to help other people with their problems. It just disappeared. For years I had been the go-to person, priding myself that I would try to help every single person who walked into my office with whatever they needed, and suddenly I just didn't want to do it any more. It was startling, and it was real.
And now I have to go grocery shopping, so stay tuned for part two of the story!
I decided the story should really begin about two and a half years ago in the spring of 2013 when two things happened - I became set to be the "last man standing" of a three person team that had run my workplace for a decade, and that same week I got the opportunity to receive free coaching from someone who was training to be a coach. My coaching goal was to put myself in the best possible position to succeed with the changes that were happening at my work.
A few things stand out from the coaching, which was on the whole enjoyable and inspiring. One was that my coach had me make a list of what I loved about my job. It filled a page, and when I read it to him, he said there were probably few people on earth who loved their jobs as much. The other was that he had me track my time from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed on two full days. In this, I discovered that I spent almost no time speaking to my partner or doing anything with her. Like less than 10 minutes of each day was being devoted to the person I love and have committed my life to.
I asked my coach about work/life balance and he admitted he had yet to figure that one out. He was a workaholic who stayed up late a lot trying to find more hours in the day. I figured that probably wouldn't work for me, but took his advice to work harder. I forgot that a 50 something man and a 50 something woman don't live in the same physiological universe.
That was May 2013 and in the months that followed I tried to internalize what I had learned, while coping with external circumstances. I tried to force myself out of the office at 3 pm two days a week (it worked for about 8 weeks maybe) to make my partner happy, and at the same time to deal with a ridiculous level of turnover in support staff. I had some wonderful student interns that year and I continued to work hard and be hopeful of success.
In the summer of 2014 we had a war, my father in law Vlad became ill, and I took only a short vacation. After the vacation, Alen went to see her father, I came home with the kids, and our boss put us on a new project management system, Asana. With this, I was going to organize my entire world. I made lists of home projects and work projects, assigned tasks to my colleagues and was sure I had things under control. I also had a lingering infection and over Sukkot developed sudden shoulder and chest pain, high blood pressure, intense headaches, and the anxiety that one would have in such a situation.
After going back and forth to the emergency room a few times and a short hospital stay, my heart checked out and they said, "stress." I said, "What do you mean, stress is my middle name, I have lived like this for years." Right up until menopause, that is.
My mother told me that regular exercise was the key to stopping the menopause related heart irregularities that run in our family (my sister got them just a bit after me). While I was in hospital we adopted a dog and from the day I got out I have walked every day. This walking slowly changed my life completely.
When I got out of the hospital I stayed home for a week like they told me, and when I got back to work my boss asked me if I needed to take some time off and I was like, "I just did." But by then Vlad was in hospital in Trinidad and after I was back at work for a week, Alen called me at work and said she had to fly out. She got on a plane with Gabi, who insisted on seeing her grandfather, and they were at Vlad's bedside the day he died, which was one year ago. I was here with Sasha and the dog, not sleeping, and with a headache that lasted 6-8 weeks (finally turning out to be an atypical migraine brought on by, you guessed it, menopause).
I stayed out of work for a month and thought a lot about my father in law. The best years of his life were the last ones, when he lived with his son and his family, saw his grandchildren every day, went sailing with his sons, cooked meals and listened to his favorite music. I thought about what could be learned from his life and about what it really means to put family first. I doubted whether I could continue to be the person I had been at work. One of the scariest parts of my illness was losing my ability for complex thinking and handling complex tasks. I could not teach and if someone wanted to talk about something complicated I had to ask them to write it down.
Over the course of these week of trying to provide emotional support to my family, grieving, medical appointments, receiving tons of support from the community, and learning to take care of myself, I lost my desire to help other people with their problems. It just disappeared. For years I had been the go-to person, priding myself that I would try to help every single person who walked into my office with whatever they needed, and suddenly I just didn't want to do it any more. It was startling, and it was real.
And now I have to go grocery shopping, so stay tuned for part two of the story!
Thursday, October 22, 2015
What I would do with Yotam Ottolenghi's leek fritter recipe if I had it all to do over again
Two leeks
One small onion
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup bread crumbs
150 g yogurt
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 eggs
cubes of bulgarit - about 1/3 of a container (feta in the US)
Chop the onion small and the leeks in slices
Saute in olive oil until soft - about 15 minutes
Add the parsley and spices to the sauteed leek + onion
Make a batter of the flour, bread crumbs, yogurt, baking powder and eggs.
Mix the vegetables into the batter. Add the bulgarit.
Put on greaseproof paper in spoonfuls (think big cookies) and bake about 20 minutes at 170 C or 350 F. They should be browned and set like cookies.
This is only slightly different from what I did. This leaves out the sugar and butter from his recipe. (I used oil instead of butter but it was really unnecessary.) I would add the eggs - he had just one egg white. If you don't want to use two eggs, try it with one.
Serve with yogurt or sour cream, or make a fancy sauce by adding garlic and lemon to one or the other.
Let me know if you make these!!!!
One small onion
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup bread crumbs
150 g yogurt
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 eggs
cubes of bulgarit - about 1/3 of a container (feta in the US)
Chop the onion small and the leeks in slices
Saute in olive oil until soft - about 15 minutes
Add the parsley and spices to the sauteed leek + onion
Make a batter of the flour, bread crumbs, yogurt, baking powder and eggs.
Mix the vegetables into the batter. Add the bulgarit.
Put on greaseproof paper in spoonfuls (think big cookies) and bake about 20 minutes at 170 C or 350 F. They should be browned and set like cookies.
This is only slightly different from what I did. This leaves out the sugar and butter from his recipe. (I used oil instead of butter but it was really unnecessary.) I would add the eggs - he had just one egg white. If you don't want to use two eggs, try it with one.
Serve with yogurt or sour cream, or make a fancy sauce by adding garlic and lemon to one or the other.
Let me know if you make these!!!!
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Nut loaf and green bean spread - two recipes
These two recipes start with the same ingredients but taste totally different. So grind up a bag of nuts - I prefer cashews or almonds - I think it's about one cup, just use the whole Israeli size bag. And chop and fry up two medium onions. Split each item in half and then proceed as follows:
Green bean spread - this is a veggie chopped liver:
For the spread (this is a moosewood recipe but she uses walnuts) - steam 2 cups of green beans and food process them. Hard boil two eggs. Add the green beans to the nuts and fried onions, then grate the eggs into the mix. Add two teaspoons mayonnaise and salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate. Great on crackers or in sandwiches.
Nut loaf
My aunt Eva says I gave her this recipe. Must have been a long time ago. Chop 2 celery sticks and 2 apples and saute them till soft. You can also use kohlrabi or carrot, chopped small. I also used a few mushrooms this time. Mix with the nuts and fried onions. Add 2 teaspoons curry powder (original recipe says garam masala), 4 oz. breadcrumbs or crushed rice cakes, 1 tablespoon ketchup, 1/4 to 1/2 cup grated cheese and one beaten egg. Mix evenly. Bake at 180 C or 350 F for 40 minutes. Gabi likes it overcooked. My aunt makes a vegan version without the cheese and egg for her grandson. Now that's love!
Finally, how to cook swiss chard - slice it then fry in olive oil with garlic and ginger that comes in those little freezer cube. One cube of each for one pack of chard - one package (called mangold here) gives you one small bowl of cooked chard.
Green bean spread - this is a veggie chopped liver:
For the spread (this is a moosewood recipe but she uses walnuts) - steam 2 cups of green beans and food process them. Hard boil two eggs. Add the green beans to the nuts and fried onions, then grate the eggs into the mix. Add two teaspoons mayonnaise and salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate. Great on crackers or in sandwiches.
Nut loaf
My aunt Eva says I gave her this recipe. Must have been a long time ago. Chop 2 celery sticks and 2 apples and saute them till soft. You can also use kohlrabi or carrot, chopped small. I also used a few mushrooms this time. Mix with the nuts and fried onions. Add 2 teaspoons curry powder (original recipe says garam masala), 4 oz. breadcrumbs or crushed rice cakes, 1 tablespoon ketchup, 1/4 to 1/2 cup grated cheese and one beaten egg. Mix evenly. Bake at 180 C or 350 F for 40 minutes. Gabi likes it overcooked. My aunt makes a vegan version without the cheese and egg for her grandson. Now that's love!
Finally, how to cook swiss chard - slice it then fry in olive oil with garlic and ginger that comes in those little freezer cube. One cube of each for one pack of chard - one package (called mangold here) gives you one small bowl of cooked chard.
Friday, October 16, 2015
Carrot muffins
Hard to believe I have not written almost any blog posts this year.
I made these carrot muffins, adapted from a recipe I found online. Everyone, especially the kids, loved them. I am noticing Sasha's friends like me for my cookies. I see how I can get them to hang out here!
Carrot Muffins:
Preheat oven to 190 C/400 F
1 egg
3/4 cup orange juice
1/2 cup canola oil
2/3 cup sugar
2 cups flour (the original recipe calls for half white and half whole wheat)
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
2 cups shredded carrots (4 carrots)
Beat egg, add orange juice, oil, sugar.
Sift the dry ingredients together and add them to the wet ingredients, stirring only till just mixed
Fold in carrots.
Line muffin cups with paper or grease them, fill 2/3 full and bake 20 minutes till done.
Make 12 large or 18 small muffins.
I had forgotten how much I loved to make muffins when I was in graduate school. I still have my trusty muffin pan from that time. Hope you enjoy these are much as we did! And remembering Sarah Fenner - we miss you Sarah.
I made these carrot muffins, adapted from a recipe I found online. Everyone, especially the kids, loved them. I am noticing Sasha's friends like me for my cookies. I see how I can get them to hang out here!
Carrot Muffins:
Preheat oven to 190 C/400 F
1 egg
3/4 cup orange juice
1/2 cup canola oil
2/3 cup sugar
2 cups flour (the original recipe calls for half white and half whole wheat)
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
2 cups shredded carrots (4 carrots)
Beat egg, add orange juice, oil, sugar.
Sift the dry ingredients together and add them to the wet ingredients, stirring only till just mixed
Fold in carrots.
Line muffin cups with paper or grease them, fill 2/3 full and bake 20 minutes till done.
Make 12 large or 18 small muffins.
I had forgotten how much I loved to make muffins when I was in graduate school. I still have my trusty muffin pan from that time. Hope you enjoy these are much as we did! And remembering Sarah Fenner - we miss you Sarah.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Immigrant Mom musings
I guess I should take comfort in the fact that the experience of being an immigrant parent is something I share with my brother, my mother, and two of my great grandmothers, Pearl Antine & Fannie Diamond.
Today's Bat Mitzvah tekes (ceremony) at Gabi's school began with a learning session. For the first activity the teacher asked everyone not born in Israel to stand up. Alen & I stood with about four, yes only four other people, and two of them seemed to be grandmothers. The other immigrant moms are the moms of my daughter's best friends in her class, who are Russian.
Then she asked everyone whose parents were not born here to stand with us, and then everyone whose grandparents weren't born here, and by then most of the room of parents and kids were standing with us. Only a small number of kids and parents stood in the place for people whose grandparents were born here.
We learn from this that we were a nation of immigrants, but I learned from it that we are no longer one. I felt sharply how we are different here and how we stand out, in my daughter's class at least. She feels it and we feel it. I know that other schools in town and other towns in Israel have different compositions, but we are mainly around people who were born here.
Then we had a Beit Midrash, which fittingly enough began with a verse from Psalm 126, "When G-d returned the capitivity from Zion we were like dreamers." I had plenty to say, as did the other parents, but I was conscious how the girls in the group, my daughter and her friends, were not talking much, and of her strictures to me earlier that I was to keep my mouth shut. We were two men, four women, three girls, and one man did most of the talking. I would have said more but for the pressure I felt to be quiet from my daughter.
The story was about Honi HaMaagel, who slept 70 years and woke up to a world he couldn't understand. I can relate.
At the ceremony itself, the 59 Bat Mitzvah girls from her grade in the middle, the boys in two sections on either side. I'm thinking how much I hate gender, the whole thing about what girls are meant to be and look like, the whole confusion. The girls are wearing white with garlands of flowers on each girl's long hair. I'm thinking of all the conflicts and contradictions of this age.
Two moms tried to sum it up in their blessing and couldn't - saying that times have changed, that girls can be anything, knowing full well that if they choose "anything" they will give up on some other parts of things. They reminded the girls to stay true to what is real in being girls and women, whatever that means. One mom said that the girls should speak up or be quiet as they wish - could it be I am a mom who speaks up with a daughter who prefers to keep quiet?
I was emotional all along, but got most emotional hearing the boys sing, with cracking voices, about how "Mashehu hadash matchil achshav" (Something new is happening now). There was something so cute and poignant. Each boy gave a girl a plastic flower with a heart, very embarassedly. And the girls did their dance, and everyone clapped.
Then at the end Hatikva, and me feeling emotional that I am here, and in a Jewish setting, and at the same time wishing I was some place that felt familiar or comfortable in any way. I'm probably the only person who thinks at the end of Hatikva, "play ball!"
And my daughter came out smiling, until about two minutes later when she got mad at me for posting a photo I took of her, and stomped off. And in the car on the way home she told us how the moms who gave the blessing, the kind of moms I like, aren't cool and how I had better never stand up and say anything like that at any event.
And I came home feeling......like an immigrant mom of a teenager, awash in a future and a country I will never understand.
Today's Bat Mitzvah tekes (ceremony) at Gabi's school began with a learning session. For the first activity the teacher asked everyone not born in Israel to stand up. Alen & I stood with about four, yes only four other people, and two of them seemed to be grandmothers. The other immigrant moms are the moms of my daughter's best friends in her class, who are Russian.
Then she asked everyone whose parents were not born here to stand with us, and then everyone whose grandparents weren't born here, and by then most of the room of parents and kids were standing with us. Only a small number of kids and parents stood in the place for people whose grandparents were born here.
We learn from this that we were a nation of immigrants, but I learned from it that we are no longer one. I felt sharply how we are different here and how we stand out, in my daughter's class at least. She feels it and we feel it. I know that other schools in town and other towns in Israel have different compositions, but we are mainly around people who were born here.
Then we had a Beit Midrash, which fittingly enough began with a verse from Psalm 126, "When G-d returned the capitivity from Zion we were like dreamers." I had plenty to say, as did the other parents, but I was conscious how the girls in the group, my daughter and her friends, were not talking much, and of her strictures to me earlier that I was to keep my mouth shut. We were two men, four women, three girls, and one man did most of the talking. I would have said more but for the pressure I felt to be quiet from my daughter.
The story was about Honi HaMaagel, who slept 70 years and woke up to a world he couldn't understand. I can relate.
At the ceremony itself, the 59 Bat Mitzvah girls from her grade in the middle, the boys in two sections on either side. I'm thinking how much I hate gender, the whole thing about what girls are meant to be and look like, the whole confusion. The girls are wearing white with garlands of flowers on each girl's long hair. I'm thinking of all the conflicts and contradictions of this age.
Two moms tried to sum it up in their blessing and couldn't - saying that times have changed, that girls can be anything, knowing full well that if they choose "anything" they will give up on some other parts of things. They reminded the girls to stay true to what is real in being girls and women, whatever that means. One mom said that the girls should speak up or be quiet as they wish - could it be I am a mom who speaks up with a daughter who prefers to keep quiet?
I was emotional all along, but got most emotional hearing the boys sing, with cracking voices, about how "Mashehu hadash matchil achshav" (Something new is happening now). There was something so cute and poignant. Each boy gave a girl a plastic flower with a heart, very embarassedly. And the girls did their dance, and everyone clapped.
Then at the end Hatikva, and me feeling emotional that I am here, and in a Jewish setting, and at the same time wishing I was some place that felt familiar or comfortable in any way. I'm probably the only person who thinks at the end of Hatikva, "play ball!"
And my daughter came out smiling, until about two minutes later when she got mad at me for posting a photo I took of her, and stomped off. And in the car on the way home she told us how the moms who gave the blessing, the kind of moms I like, aren't cool and how I had better never stand up and say anything like that at any event.
And I came home feeling......like an immigrant mom of a teenager, awash in a future and a country I will never understand.
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