Day 24 - Sand, Sea, and Sky

Binyamin trying out the Noam-carrier

This week we felt we had to take advantage of our unique situation -- no baby to worry about, and there are only 8 of us, meaning we can all fit into just two taxis.  So after much deliberation, I decided we need to go to the Palmachim beach and nature reserve.  Turns out, it was a good decision.

Sand

We took a bus to the far side of Rishon LeTzion, and from there we caught a pair of taxis to take us to the edge of the nature reserve.  From 5 meters into the trail, we were treading in soft sand.  With four kilometers ahead of us, it didn't look like such an appealing hike after all.  The kids all wanted to take off their sandals and plow through the sand barefoot, but the surface of the sand was searing hot.  Panic quickly ensued.  Much whining was heard, until our ears began to ache, and we eventually found a paved path to take us part of the way.  In the end, it turned out to be about 50/50 - half the trail we were walking in sand, and half the time on solid ground.  It wasn't as fun as it could have been, but we all survived the trek nevertheless.

The trip's sponsors enjoying a quiet moment by the water

Exploring a dam we passed by at the beginning of the hike

Sea

About two hours later, we reached our long-coveted destination.  It was a wild and empty stretch of Mediterranean goodness, with a nice breeze and playful ocean spray.  The kids got right down to business, playing in the water and in the sand, collecting seashells and interesting stones.  Except for another small group of people far down the beach, we were the only ones there.  It was perfect.

Where the sand meets the sea.  The upright speck just to the right of the greenery is Amiel running towards the water

Since we had the whole place to ourselves, we decided to make the beach clothing-optional

Sky

On the way home, we were all on a hi from the fabulous time had on the beach...

And it was quite a wild sky

Day 22 - Culture Shock

For me, my parents' arrival signified a tremendous lightening of my load, and the total end of my social isolation that grew out of my peculiar situation.  For the kids, and the grandparents, their visit has different meanings than it does for me.

Culinary

Every time they come, one of the primary ways in which the kids bond with their grandparents is through food.  Of course, you might say, everyone fondly remembers their grandmother's cooking.  It's a big part of the link between generations, etc. etc.  Well, I'm talking about something else entirely.

In our house, under normal circumstances, animal products are a rarity.  Fish, beef, and poultry get consumed once or twice during the week, and once on Shabbat, on average.  We buy milk products about 2-3 times a year, since we're convinced that cow's milk was never intended for human consumption.  When my parents are here, they end up cooking very little, for a number of reasons that are irrelevant to issue at hand.  Instead, they end up eating a ton (by our standards) of animal products -- yogurt and cheese, prepared meats, smoked or canned fish.  For our kids, who consider these foods to be special treats, going to sup at Sabba and Savta's is always preferable to eating the regular whole foods served at home, and so they go there to eat as much as the hosts will allow them - almost every day.

Techno

Story time with Savta and Youtube

While I'm now working in software, and we have two computers and three more devices at home, we still heavily restrict the kids' screen time, hoping it will help them develop creativity, independence, etc.  Sabba and Savta come along, two smartphones, a laptop and a tablet in tow, and as typical grandparents, feel no need to discipline or restrict the children they came to dote upon.

And so, at the end of a typical day with them, I hear from one kid how he got so far playing Angry Birds, and from another how funny the Donald Duck cartoon was, and from a third how she took dozens of pictures and viewed them over and over again.  When I hear about and witness their digital over-exposure, I just roll my eyes.  That's just the way it has to be, I suppose.

Socioreligious

I grew up and placed myself in a radically different culturally setting from where I began.  My religious Israeli environment is different in language, mindset, social norms, and daily habits from the way I was raised.  And while my parents come often enough (2.5 times a year, on average) to Israel, and specifically to our neighborhood, there are still questions, hesitations, and awkward moments sprinkled in their interactions with the locals here.

My father, in addition to not being privy to all the cultural clues, doesn't even know what to do if things are spelled out for him - his Hebrew vocabulary is still in the double digits range.  So he oftentimes asked me what it meant that a particular person said something to him, or looked at him a certain way, or why someone dresses in a particular fashion.  In general, we have an ongoing dialog about cultural mores in the religious community, a dialog which we continue on from visit to visit.  My mother, whether because she has a better idea of what's acceptable and what's not, or whether she just assumes she can always rely on her Hebrew language skills (which are quite good) to get her through any kind of situation, rarely inquires about these kinds of things.  And sometimes it goes the other way.  The 'landlord' from whom we're renting the apartment asked me if my father knew the prayer times of the local synagogues so he'd know where to go in the morning, and I had to kindly inform him that my father is not a frequenter of synagogues.

Day 20 - Reinforcements Have Arrived

United By a Common Goal

As I may have previously noted, the young inhabitants of my house are able to come together and perform harmoniously when motivated by something that excites or entices them.  Usually, that motivation takes the form of a piece of chocolate or 15 minutes of Warner Brothers cartoons, but occasionally a less immediate reward can serve the purpose.  In this case, seeing and pleasing their beloved grandparents was plenty motivation for them to act, with purpose, eagerly, and harmoniously.

For my part, I already arranged the apartment two weeks ago, including getting an a/c unit installed at my behest.  The problem was, the apartment hadn't been intended by the owner to serve as a vacation facility, and therefore was barely furnished.  A table with chairs, a second bed (since the existing bed wasn't so large), towels and bedding, a couch, and some basic kitchen appliances (such as an electric kettle and a toaster oven) all needed to be brought in in order to make the place comfortable for folks showing with just their suitcases for a three week stay.  Luckily, we had everything they needed already on hand at home: we'd recently gotten two more couches from friends - one would go to my parents' place; I had an extra electric kettle lying around from when I had an office space I rented out; an extra folding bed and rarely used folding table all made their way down the street to the other apartment.  The problem was making the move.  In addition to all the aforementioned furniture and sundry items, my parents also have an entire suitcase + a bag + two small boxes of things they've accumulated for use over their many visits here, and get stored in our house in between visits.

A shot of the apartment, obscured by trees, from Google Earth

This is where the kids came in.  Nearly from the moment they got home from their various educational institutions, there was only one thing on their minds: getting the apartment ready for Sabba and Savta.  And so, over the course of 3-4 hours, numerous trips were made back and forth, like a small band of ants moving the nest.  Plastic bags, boxes, and strollers served to convey all the goods. 

Once everything had been brought to the apartment, it all had to be arranged properly.  Beds were made, groceries (purchased this morning, based on standard foodstuffs they bought on previous visits) were put away, kitchen appliances and utensils arranged on the counter and in cabinets, and the floor was swept and wiped clean.  In all these preparations I played a very minimal role, carrying furniture (sometimes with Binyamin's help) too big or too heavy for them to deal with, guiding them on how to unpack the suitcase or the grocery bags, and helping them find linens, towels, and pillows for delivery.  It was a fantastic effort, I'm very proud of them, not because they displayed such a willingness to help out, but because they care so much about their grandparents.

Single Fathers Support Group 

Over the course of the last few days, I've had a number of people, my father amongst them, share with me similar experiences they had taking care of a number of children when their spouse was away for a while.  Not one of them was in that situation for as long as I've been, but who's counting? (I certainly am...)

Sonya, Adam, and their kids

One friend's wife once went to the Ukraine for five days to strengthen her bonds with Rebbe Nachman (of Breslev, buried in Uman, Ukraine).  Another friend's wife went to the States for 10 days to visit family, leaving him with a number of rowdy boys (this was a few years back; they currently have 7 boys, and no girls).  Adam, my brother-in-law, recounted how a few times Sonya went away to academic conferences, and he (and the nanny) had to fend for themselves with three young children.  And my father reminded me of the times my Mom went away to various Jewish educators' conferences and we got to break all the house rules while she was gone.

The common denominator of these short man-to-man (was that redundant?) moments of empathy, was that the experience had a positive side.  Whether just the satisfaction of knowing you're capable of it, the special male bonding time, the experience of how Things Could Be Different, or appreciating how much your wife really holds the house together, their is something to be gained from the situation, and that's what stuck with all these guys.  I not only hope, but also believe, that that's what will stick with me, instead of the exhaustion, frustration, and loneliness.

Day 19 - Shabbat With The Boys

Different Folks, Different Strokes

You know how men are supposedly more introverted than women?  I totally get that.

This Shabbat Amiel and Avigail went to their cousins in Elad, and I was left with three boys, first, last, and middle child of those entrusted to my care this month.  Shabbat was pleasant, but low key.  Instead of having an engaging conversation at the table, Binyamin and Chanania preferred to engross themselves in various reading material, or at the very most engage in text study with me, in which engaging the text is much more essential than engaging the other person.

After being vegan for a few years, I could never bring
myself to drink straight cow's milk again.  That's soy milk
in the glass

In order not to catch Asperger's from these creatures, I arranged for us to join another family for Shabbat lunch.  There they both had age peers of the proper gender to interact with, and I was spared having to futilely try to interest them in some topic of discussion, while enjoying an hour of adult conversation myself.  Interestingly enough, in this particular household, a union of a man of proud Moroccan ethnicity with an outspoken Polish woman, they had both recently begun to consider taking a vegetarian or even vegan lifestyle.  Over the course of 30 minutes or so, we traversed together all the run-of-the-mill arguments for against vegetarianism, both from a secular and Jewish perspective: cruelty to animals, health issues, inefficient use and poor allocation of world resources as a result of a heavily meat-based diet in large parts of the world, the role of animal sacrifice in Judaism and the question of whether it's meant to return at some indeterminate point in time, R. Kook's famous treatise on the role of vegetarianism in humanity's journey to final enlightenment, etc., etc.  

For me, this was most entertaining.  I became vegetarian just before my 12th birthday, and vegan when I was 15.  I stopped keeping a vegan diet at age 22 when I started my army service (a stipulation I made in an effort not to starve to death), and started eating meat again 5 years later.  In the midst of all these dietary changes I was also undergoing religious and spiritual transformations, so these discussion were oh-so familiar to me.  I felt like I was back in youth group or in yeshiva, when I used to have to defend my dietary habits from friend and foe alike.  Okay, I guess it was really just friends...

A Personal Question

In two days, my parents arrive.  I've arranged an apartment for them to stay in, but it was missing a few essential pieces of furniture.  So tonight we dragged over a couch from our place so they'll have someplace comfy to sit.  I got a friend to help carry it (it's just about a block away), and Binyamin tagged along.  After we had deposited the couch, the friend continued on to his home, and Binyamin and I strolled back to ours, down the quiet alley in which the apartment is situated.  And then, out of the blue, Binyamin said something that made me stop in my tracks.  

Binyamin.  He gets along much better with the little ones than siblings he
could have more meaningful interactions with.

"Are you happy that Sabba and Savta are coming," he asked, Sabba and Savta being the Hebrew terms for Grandpa and Grandma, respectively, and the titles my parents are addressed by in our house, regardless of the language being used.  Two things surprised me in his question.  The first, his motivation for asking.  Was it not obvious that I was pleased to see my parents?  I would like to think that it is, but maybe haven't hyped up the visit this time as much as I usually do.  But that part didn't really shock me.  What made me stop and stare at him was the fact that he had asked me how I felt about something that was of no consequence to him.  This was the first time I'd ever seen him really reach outside of himself and take interest in another person's thoughts or feelings, as just that.  Someone else's experience.

Binyamin has always been extremely self-centered, unable to see anyone else's point of view (or at least not admit that he can see it), nor take other people's feelings, perceptions, or wants into consideration.  So it really hit me when he asked me this simple question, that he must be maturing, coming to appreciate that other people have their own perception of reality.  A step in the right direction!

Day 16 - Head Out of the Water

The Day I Dared to Hope

Today, for the first time since this whole ordeal began, I dare to even look at a calendar and "count the days", that is, examine my precision situation from a temporal standpoint.  Up 'til now, I had a general idea of when this journey would end.  "She's coming back in another three weeks," I'd say to inquiring friends, or "In a week and a half my parents come in, and then it'll be much easier."  But I avoided actually taking stock, afraid of how I would feel knowing just how much more time I was due to serve.  But this week I crossed the half-way point, and I knew that before the middle of next week my parents would come and take half the burden from my shoulders, if not more.  So I peeked at the calendar for the first time.  12 days left, indeed, but it doesn't seem so far off.  Maybe I'll even survive, with my sanity intact.

Coming Out of the Shell

Another consequence of feeling the impending release from my figurative bondage is the ability to calmly consider engaging in leisure activities.  While last Friday I did sneak out for a bike ride with a friend, the whole time I was planning it, and even during it, I was sort of cringing inside, thinking of how much I could get done around the house, or work, during that time, and wondering if the kids (Chanania and Noam) were okay at home with an adult they don't really know (a friend of Michal's).

Today, I feel like I've started to regain my normal sense of balance between obligation to the home and family, and commitment to my own needs and desires.  So I went to my regular Kabbalah study session last night with no pangs of guilt, and made up with a friend who wanted me to help him with getting into Android development (he's mostly a Microsoft guy, but I like him anyway).  Maybe dealing with household responsibility overload is like getting into shape - the first few times you work out, you're still out of shape, you're huffing and puffing, your every thought and every fiber in your body is completely devoted to the workout.  You can't talk to anyone else, you can't listen, heck, you can hardly hear.  But every a few training sessions your body gets the hang of it, and even though it's still tough, it doesn't stress you out in that way any more, and you listen to an audiobook or radio show, or even carry on a rudimentary conversation while exercising.  My househusband muscles are getting properly toned!

Day 15 - Doing Our Duties

Work and Play

On my way to the afternoon prayer, I passed through a group of boys, some of them classmates of Binyamin or Chanania, engaged in a very serious water fight.  Water guns, water balloons, the works.

They made me think about why I'm so preoccupied by what needs to get done, and some folk, like this group of kids, are focused primarily on what the want to do.  Some might say, it's that stage of life, when most of the time you do what you do because you have to.  Others might offer a more psychological analysis - perhaps I'm not ready to face my real wants, so I busy myself with the necessary.  I myself feel like there's some of both going on inside of me.

Hospital Blues

I spoke with Michal today over Skype, and got the lowdown on her mother's situation.  Over the course of last week, Anna's condition after the surgery had fluctuated from day to day as her body got used to the new adjustments in her heart, and as the doctors attending to her constantly readjusted her meds, both in type and dosage, in a desperate attempt to stabilize and soothe her heart.  One day her readings were very good, the next day very worrying, and the day after that it wasn't clear, since she was adjusting to the new prescriptions.  

Her daughters, in the meantime, who had left their homes and families in order to support their mother and keep up her cheer, are facing trials and tribulations of their own.  Over the weekend they had been staying in an apartment maintained by the Jewish community of Philadelphia for the sole purpose of allowing family members to be near their loved ones during their stay in the UPenn hospitals, primarily but not exclusively on Shabbat.  On Sunday they were told that they'd overstayed their welcome, and they needed to find another place to stay.  In the end they found a place in a not-so-far-away neighborhood (30 minute walk), an academic acquaintance of Sonya's who had a spare bedroom.  And so, uncooperative 5-month girl and all, they made their move.  Now, instead of being very near the hospital and being able to switch shifts quickly and easily, it's a small commute every time.  Consider the following: 1.) Elisheva (the baby) isn't allowed into the ward, 2.) Elisheva can't be separated from Michal for more than two hours during the day, and 3.) Either Michal or Sonya need to be with their mother all day long.  It's worse than the fox, the chicken, and the grain riddle!  And exhausting, to boot, since each trip is a minor schlep, multiplied by three or four times a day, it's a big schlep!  I don't envy her.  I'd rather just hang out at home with all the kids...

Day 14 - Playing House

I'm Your Mother, I'm Your Father

Amiel (on the pedestal) receives his certification of completion
from the kindergarten teacher

From day one of this journey, I've know I was doubling as the kids' mother, albeit without the finesse that their real mother does it with.  I pack them off to school, greet them when they come up, remind them to eat, force them to change out of dirty clothing, you get the idea.  But today I reached new heights (actually a new low from my standpoint, as you'll see) when I attended Amiel's kindergarten party celebrating a year of fun and learning.  I mentioned in an earlier post that their had been some discussion on this point, seeing as only members of the female persuasion were invited to the event, his mother is out of time, his grandmother will arrive exactly one week late, and his sister has a dress rehearsal for her theater performance later on the same week.  I had decided that no representatives of the family would come, since he didn't seem at all upset at the prospect of being unrepresented.

But then, out of the blue, I got a phone call this morning.  It was Ido, the kindergarten "Rabbi".  He told me that there was at least one other father who was coming on behalf of his wife, who was unable to attend, and so I could come, too, if I wanted.  I didn't want to, truth be told, but I asked Amiel when he got home, and he was very pleased at the prospect.  And so I found myself entering the kindergarten room at 4:30 in the afternoon, wading through a sea of female age peers.  This, is for me, a novel experience, neither pleasant nor interesting.  Due to the cultural biases in our community against mixing of the sexes beyond childhood (unless you're related), I was not about to interact with these women.  Even if I had something to say to them, it would create an awkward situation if I were to try to start a conversation with one of them.  And I didn't have anything to say to any of them, anyway.  Well, actually, there was a moment at the end of the party, after the gifts were given out to the various kindergarten staff, that I did have something to say to someone.  Each gift was presented by a different mother, who read off a short speech saying how much we all appreciated that particular staff member in their particular role in the kindergarten.  The first woman, who presented to "Rabbi" Ido, read off a very eloquent and witty piece, written in rhymed verse.  I was curious to know if she'd written it herself, and she was one of the few women there I did feel free to converse with, since her husband is a good friend of mine, and I've had interaction with her when at their home.  But by that time, I was more interested in getting back to the ranch than discovering latent literary talent.

Lend a Hand

There are times when everything just seems to come together.  A little forethought, some earnest requests for cooperation (some might call it pleading), and whammo! the house has been transformed.  From looking like "a tornado hit it", as my wife likes to remark, to a relative orderly, pleasant living space.  That is what happened this afternoon.  I assembled all the children, delegated tasks, and within 25 minutes, all the laundry (two loads' worth) was folded, all the toys, books, and clothes that were strewn around the living room got put away, the dishes were washed, the floor swept and mop, and I felt pretty good about myself.  This perfect orchestration happened one time so far, and that's good enough for me.  If it happens again, well, that'll really be extra credit, as far as I'm concerned.

Day 13 - Good Times

Family

This afternoon when talking to Michal, we received the the Anna update, which was surprisingly upbeat.  Over the weekend her situation had greatly improved, and she was now up and walking around the ward a few times a day, accompanied by her two daughters.  All the tubes and drips had been removed, except for a single medication that was still being pumped through an IV.  This was way better than what I had expected.  On Wednesday, the day after the operation, she was progressing well, but on Thursday her blood pressure and heart rate had been unstable, and on Friday morning, the last we heard, there was no improvement, despite all the drugs and fluids the doctors had begun to fill her with.

Not so long ago, my mother was in the hospital.
What's with you people?  Can't you just stay healthy?

Whenever in the past years I've been faced with someone I care about being dangerously ill, or even when one of the kids hasn't come home at an unreasonably late hour from somewhere, I tend to do two things.  I pray fervently for their safety, and I tell myself that this might be the end.  It sounds a little morbid, but I think I'd rather not be surprised and shocked if something bad were to actually happen, and on the other hand I get to be very relieved when everything turns out okay.  I did the same thing these past two days, and today I was joyfully relieved to hear that my mother-in-law is back on her feet.

Work

Netbeans - my development environment for this project

I resolved that this week I must finish the app for the aforementioned (in Thursday's post) medical advice website.  I have been having a lot of trouble getting the audio recording to work at all; I was getting only errors, and the documentation for the framework I'm working with was not at all helpful.  Today I figured out the problem, and all of a sudden, from nothing at all, it worked perfectly.  I was very happy.  Maybe I'll finish the whole thing one day.  All that's left is getting the video upload to work properly, then configuring the forum thread comments, and tweaking the admin options, and let's not forget about adding on links to the doctors' tips and the medical calculators, and embedding Youtube videos into the doctors' profiles, and so on.... I'll finish it someday...

Friends

Tonight I had a bachelor buddy over for a beer and some Divrei Torah.  We delved into the myriad implications of the number 40 in Scripture and in the Sages' words.  We discovered that it invariably is used, in both cases, to describe a passage of time that allows for a paradigm shift, whether it's 40 days or 40 years.  After the learning session was over, we stood on the steps for another half hour or so discussing his lack of progress in the search for Miss Right.  There are so many in his situation, successful, smart, good-looking, emotionally balance eligible religious bachelors and bachelorettes, endlessly going on dates and years and years go by before they can settle on a mate.  It's already been recognized as a community-wide crisis, the 'community' here being used in the broader sense, the non-Haredi religious community.  In recent years, special seminars and workshops aiming to let these eternal bachelors and old maids let go of whatever's holding them back from tying the knot.  I don't have any professional knowledge or experience in the field, but I do have a strong intuition about individuals I get to know.  So I gave him a piece of my mind -- not in any forceful way -- and he remarked at the end of the conversation that I really opened something up in him, that he felt something being to turn, to change, in his perception of the whole process.  It always feels right to get external confirmation on things you know deep down to be a certain way.

One student's writing implements, notes, and practice parchment that he never
even bothered to pick up from me after quitting towards the end of the course

Just as he was leaving, another guy showed up, a scribe from Tel Aviv who I've been giving guidance and advice for some time, much moreso recently as he crossed over from his 'native' Sefardic writing style and began to serve the Ashkenazic market as well.  We talked about his writing, his marketing, about pricing, and finally about my own recent withdrawal from the profession.  He urged me to stay active to some extent, since my knowledge and experience can be a great asset to others.  He prodded me to teach, instruct young students in the art of ritual scribery and all the laws connected to it.  The truth, before I stopped writing I was teaching, mostly on an invidividual basis, and I enjoyed it more than any other application of the profession.  The problem was that the students were not as dedicated as the teacher, and basically not a single one every completed the course of acquiring the necessary skills and applying them by writing a scroll.  They all just lost their impetus toward the end of learning the letters, a few even starting the scroll, but never finishing.  I don't know why this happened, but my friend suggested that it was due to the fact that my prices were too low.  "All the students of Yehezkel Yehezkel finish out the course," he put forth, invoking the name of the most well known Sefardic scribe in the country, and probably in the whole world, who takes upwards of $1000 from students who want to learn the trade from his hand.  "They paid so much money, they have to finish," he continued.  I take 500 ILS, about $120-$130 for overhead, and another 100 ILS ($25) per lesson.  On average, the student starts writing on his own after 12-15 lessons.  I have a severe inhibition in regards to charging customers or students more than what I feel is what I deserve.  That was one of the points of failure in my business attempt three years ago, and it still haunts me today in my new profession.  I'm hoping working for someone else will render this deficiency irrelevant.  As for returning to teaching ritual wriitng, I haven't decided yet.  Time will tell.

Day 11 - Time to Get Away

Out on My Own

I have needed to get out for some time, hoping and longing for an opportunity to get away from the house and the kids, if only for a few hours, preferably in an outdoor setting.  On Friday that opportunity finally arrived.  There's a very nice guy from my neighborhood, loosely associated with the yeshiva, who is a major biking enthusiast.  He organized a group of likeminded folk (half the group is compromised of friends of mine) to hit the trails at least once a week.  Every Friday morning the load up the gear and head out, and there are sporadic trips in the middle of the week as well.  I joined their WhatsApp group some time ago, and the almost daily discussion of where to ride, when to leave, who's going in which car, etc. have been fostering my appetite.  I decided this week I was going to join them for the first time, or bust!   Michal and I hatched a plan that would allow this to happen.  Chanania would stay home to play with Noam, and she would ask a friend to come over so the kids would have an adult presence around.  I got the other kids out early, with Binyamin's help, and at eight o'clock sharp headed over to Daniel, the bike guy's, house to load up my bike and head out.  We drove to the Ben Shemen forest, the largest planted (by the JNF) forest in the country, and one rife with hiking and biking trails.  

In the Ben Shemen forest, one month prior

As it turns out, this is a very popular spot for a Friday morning bike ride.  The combination of its proximity to the Tel Aviv metropolitan area, combined with the only day most people are off of work, but don't need to go to shul/take the kids to the beach (depending on your persuasion), resulted in the fact that when we arrived I thought there was some sort of mountain bike convention going on there.  That day, by some fluke, none of the regular guys could come, so it was just me and Daniel, who is a semi-professional guide and instructor in the arts of riding and decking yourself out for the ride.  We suited up and started on the trail, he occasionally giving me tips or demonstrating proper technique for going over large rocks or dealing with gravelly conditions, me just really enjoying being on my bike in the forest, feeling the wind on my face and seeing green and sky instead of cars, pavement, and buildings.  The ride was sweet, but too short, and by eleven we were back in the car, on our way to Ramat Gan again.  I felt refreshed and relaxed, kind of like taking a long shower after working out in the sun all day, and following up with an ice-cold lemonade.

Shabbat in the Mountains

On the Jerusalem light rail

I made up with our long-lost (and long found) cousins who live in the Judean mountains to spend Shabbat. Yishai Ben Mordechai (formerly Perlin, mentioned in a previous post) grew up in Florida, and made aliya in his twenties, followed shortly by brother Asher, and much later by sister Becky, and eventually his widowed mother came over, too.  He settled in the quaint and quiet town of Kochav HaShachar, which is effectively in the middle of nowhere but has a view that covers half the width of the state.  We are second cousins, once removed, with a 15-year age gap between us, but we happened to have learned in the same yeshiva (not at the same time), and we have a lot in common.  He married a girl from New York, Hannah (don't recall her maiden name), and they're going to be grandparents very soon, since their eldest, Moriah (20) is due around Rosh HaShana.  We used to visit them more often, when we had fewer children, but the last time we were at their house was more than five years past.  Before we left the house on Friday Binyamin asked me why we don't go to them like we used to.  The trip there was more than enough of a reminder why not.  Two long bus rides, with a stint on the light rail connecting them, resulted in us leaving the house before two o'clock and arriving close to five.

Relaxing on a swing before Shabbat.  Standing next to them is cousin Yishai

Shabbat was a very positive experience for everyone: I got to reconnect with my cousins, and share experiences and issues relating to child rearing and family maturation processes, as well as not having to spend Shabbat feeling lonely and isolated watching the kids by myself.  Some of the kids made (or re-made) new friends, they all got to experience a different kind of environment, and on Shabbat afternoon I took them to feed the goats someone keeps just beyond the last row of houses.  That, if fact, was the highlight of the whole weekend for some of them.  At the end of Shabbat Binyamin remarked that he really liked it there, because it was as quiet and Shabbat-friendly as Bnei Brak, but in a rural setting, not stinky and crowded like Bnei Brak.  A good friend of his is moving there in about two weeks, so he may begin to make more frequent visits, on his own.  

Everyone came home with smiles on their faces, ready to set in for one more week of just the six of us.  It's the last week we have to pass on our own.  I hope it will be no harder than the first two.

Photo was taken next to the goats, 1.5 blocks from the Ben Mordechai homestead

Day 9 - We All Just Need A Break

Screw This, I'm Going on Vacation

Today I felt like I needed a break.  And the kids, too.  A break from the intensity of trying to get everything done, a break from disciplining them, a break from our near-Spartan policies of restricting sweets and other non-necessities.  So today became a little flamboyant.  I'm a big believer in a routine of self-discipline punctuated by letting loose now and then.  If, on the one hand, a person sticks to their principles fanatically, the likelihood is that at some point they'll just run out of steam.  On the other hand, no structure is just anarchy, and creates a situation in which it's very hard to stay on task.  Therefore the combination gives you the best of both worlds.  In our house it's Michal who's in charge of staying on task, and I provide the spunk.  But when she's gone, I have to do both.

So for dinner I made them smoothies and grilled cheese sandwiches, instead of the usual whole-grain-with-a-legume with only water to drink.  Then, after everyone had eaten their fill the three boys took a bath together, and I let them run around naked and screeching like monkeys for a while before I started herding them toward their pajamas.  We capped off the evening with half an episode of the Israeli version of Sesame Street (which seems to have discontinued in the 80's, but the kids barely even noticed the poor quality).  All in all, they seemed to have appreciated it.  I certainly did.

Here is a recording of the boys running around after the bath.

Asak*

In less than three weeks the school year ends around here.  You can feel it in the way the kids talk about school, even though not a word is uttered about vacation, what they're planning to do or even if they're looking forward to it.  But the ease at which they are willing to consider missing class for rather trivial reasons bespeaks very clearly of their unvoiced feelings.  I, like my children, found the experience of attending grade school to be uninteresting and unchallenging, sometimes bordering on loathsome.  But we dealt with it in different ways.  I was such a little goody-two-shoes that I could only dream of not doing my homework, let alone skip class.  I just sucked it up and put up with the boredom, the slow pace and general humdrummedness (did I make that word up?), and eventually I graduated and left it all behind.  My children, it seems, have less patience than I did.  

Binyamin struggling with Cartesian coordinates

If Chanania finds the math exercises too boring, he spaces off or leafs through the workbook instead.  When the teacher writes us a note in his personal planner reminding us to prod him about finishing the assignment, not only does he not show us or say anything about said note, he also scribbles over it so throughly that it's completely illegible.  The days in which he got to school on time this year I could probably count on my fingers and toes.

Binyamin, in addition to having absolutely no interest in written assignments, he has the occasional scrape with certain classmates who seem to have it in for him, whereafter he announces that he's never going back to school again.  Once or twice he made good on his threat, and after I literally kicked him out of the house in the morning, he spent the day hanging out in a public park, returning home in the afternoon.  On suspicion, I questioned him as to his whereabouts during the day, and he admitted unabashedly that he dhadn't set foot on the school grounds.

Avigail carries on her parents' legacy of being loyal to the system.  Too much so, in fact, bursting into tears if we make her go to bed instead of allowing her to finish homework that's due the next day.  She just doesn't know when to stop.  This year, in addition to the regular schoolwork (and after skipping a grade over last summer), she has piano lessons, plays in the advanced recorder choir, attends the school's "Bible Club", so to speak, and competes in their seasonal Bible Bees, is involved in the Drama Club (second production of the year is next week), and has youth group activities she can't bear to miss, twice a week.  When does she eat? sleep? brush her hair? talk on the phone with friends (she is a preteen, after all)?  Well, besides for talking on the phone, which she thankfully hasn't discovered yet, she somehow fits everything in.  But I'm sure she's also looking forward to summer vacation.

All the highlighted messages are oustanding issues.
This is just three weeks worth, and some of them I already took care of.

And as for me, my work life is supposed to intensify greatly at the same moment the kids get let off of school for the summer.  On July 1, the official first day of summer break, I start my first real job ever.  But this is always a break for me, in many ways.  Currently I spend most of my time working for one guy, an offbeat Breslev hasid who lives near Haifa, and is an accomplished Internet entrepeneur, highly experienced at SEO, and atypically doesn't seem to do very much business with other Orthodox folk.  The main gig I've been working on for him is a medical experts forum site (www.medonline.co.il).  He first had some teenager writing the code for him, but then, all of a sudden, this talented young programmer was drafted into the army.  The site was about 90% functional, or so it seemed at first, and he took me on to put on the finishing touches and churn out Android and iPhone apps for the forums.  We started back in November.  I'm still working on pinning down the last few bugs, and adding minor features, some of which the original programmer didn't get to, but many of which he decided to add on later in the game.  

It's not that there was so many months of work there, but the code was so disorganized and poorly written, it made bug fixes and additions very painstaking.  It was sort of like asking a high-caliber interior designer to come renovate an 100-year-old hovel.  Not that I'm such a hotshot programmer,  but I do pride myself on writing clean, clear, and well-organized code, to the best of my ability.  And here's this guy coding this enormous and complex website in PHP, with no framework, no abstraction of methods, barely and resemblance of a template for the HTML, just one big mess.  So a little ways into the work, I told the Breslever that for ease of maintenance and in order to improve security, the code has to be refactored into an appropriate framework.  His response?  We don't have the budget for that right now.  Maybe next year...  And so it dragged on, and on, and on.  It would be one thing if it was just that work that was annoying, but this guy's communications habits are as disorganized as the teenage whiz kid's code.  He would regularly send me email, text messages, and WhatsApp messages about the same issue, oftentimes repeating himself word for word, sometimes up to 15 messages a day.  At first he wanted us to have a single, monolithic email conversation on which we would correspond, but important notes were getting buried as new messages were added to the conversation.  So he would begin a new conversation for every CSS adjustment or text wording correction.   So my inbox was filled to the brim with his messages, until I couldn't take it any more, and a few weeks ago I forced him to start communicating with me via Trello, a fantastic organizational and collaboration browser/mobile app.  Now I only get 2-3 emails a day, because, I suppose, he just can't resist.  Getting my new job has allowed me to refuse to accept any more work from him (he has another five new features for the site, and three whole projects already lined up for me), and I feel like I'm about to be set free.  Now I just have to figure out to make this app record audio properly, for the forum voice post functionality...

Our original correspondence.  46 messages from about two weeks, in November

Day 8 - Nonstop Self-discovery

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

One side benefit of my current situation is that I am forced to be deal with questions that I normal don't bother thinking about, concerning situations I would otherwise not be involved in.  For instance, next week Amiel has a party in preschool/kindergarten (it's mixed ages), celebrating the completion of learning the entire Alef-Bet.  The preschool is public, but pretty much run by our yeshiva-based community, and conforms to its somewhat strict (depends on your perspective, of course, another 100 meters north you enter Bnei Brak and there you won't find any mixed gender kindergartens whatsoever) code of interaction between adults of opposite genders.  Therefore each time parents of only one particular gender are invited to attend and watch their children perform some kind of dance or other show that is the main event of the party.  For obvious reasons, the mothers are usually the ones invited to such things, as is the case with the party next week.  Under circumstances wherein Michal can't attend, Avigail would go in her stead, armed with some kind of photographic apparatus.  This time, Avigail can't go either.  That same afternoon she has dress rehearsal for a play that her drama club is putting on the next night, and she has a fairly major role in it (there are only 11 girls in the production).  

And now the question is: What shall we do with poor Amiel?  He'll be so distraught and dejected if noone comes to see him dance!  It was suggested by my overseas advisor to invite the same great-aunt who took two kids last week to the light show in Jerusalem.  "She'd be more than happy to come," she assured me.  Hold on, let me get this straight -- we're going to ask her to cut out of work early and travel approximately two hours each way, so that Amiel will have someone cheering him on in the crowd?   I told her what Amiel had told me earlier that day, after he found out that Avigail had a serious schedule conflict.  He said that the kindgarten teacher (also named Michal) told them that anyone whose mother can't attend, she'll temporarily adopt them, so they'll have her as their maternal standin.  Amiel then concluded, "So she'll be my mama for the party!"  He didn't seem the least bit upset.  Problem solved.

My analog journals.  The dates on the inside covers, from left to right:
Nov 2, 1995, June 18, 1996, April 24, 1997, April 2, 2000

Those kinds of interactions are interesting, but I think the most significant positive impact for me this trip has had is this blog itself.  At age 14 I started keeping a diary.  Not a record of events, but of thoughts and feelings.  I wrote about everything that I was going through in my most formative years, including the entire process of becoming religious/observant, relationships I had, and the decision and execution of making aliya.  After getting married the diary entries slowly taper off, becoming fewer and farther between.  The last entries were written on our last trip stateside, in 2009.  I'm not entirely sure why I stopped writing, but part of it was the fact that it didn't feel right keeping a private log of a life I now shared completely with another person.  This blog. as a public chronicle rather than a private, secret journal, sits much better with me and my current state of being.  I do believe that I will continue to write, even after the month is over.  But probably not every day...

Hold Your Breath, Cross Your Fingers, and Pray

Today, in a few short hours, my mother-in-law goes under the knife in an attempt to mend a heart condition she's been suffering from for years, hypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy, or mitral valve disease.  We ask everyone to pray, say a few kopitel of tehillim, think positive thoughts, or whatever you think could help, to support her in getting through the operation and recovering afterwards.  For those who want to mention her name in prayer, it's Anna bat Michlya Freida.

Life-threatening conditions, and the operations, no less life-threatening themselves, that people undergo in order to be saved from them, raise all sorts of questions.  As a bystander, I'm more interested in the questions that pertain to the people who care about the person whose life is at stake, so to speak.  Should I prepare myself for the worst possible outcome?  Or should I think only positive thoughts, and focus on what will need to be done for the recovering patient, assuming the best (or at least not the worst) outcome?  I think most people would agree that not writing up a will after a certain advanced age is irresponsible, if not downright reprehensible (because of the arguments in the family the lack of a will can create), but it doesn't necessarily follow from that that one should be occupied by the eventuality of death, even when it's statistically imminent.  I apologize for the rather morbid post, but you can't always be upbeat about everything.  Death, as they say, is just a part of life...

Day 7 - My New Life

Work at Home Dad By Day, Housewife By Night

Born to play

I'm settling into my new life.  All day long I go about my daily routine with an out for dirty dishes that need to migrated to the sink, and forgotten pajamas that need to returned to their drawer.  When I plan out my day, I make sure to leave room for laundry, preparing a batch of bread (in the bread machine), cutting kids' nails, or cooking a meal for five hungry mouths.  As for myself, I no longer feel the need to change my clothes, and I subsist off of children's unfinished food.  Here I pick up a carrot end and shove it in my mouth, there I down half a bowl of rice forgotten at the table, supplemented by a couple of apple slices someone lost interest in.

This morning I rode down to the bank (with Noam in the child seat, as always) to deposit a check.  The bank is situated right on the edge of this magnificent park, with a properly outfitted playground.  Actually two -- one for big kids and one for little kids.  For some reason I wasn't feeling rushed, so I offered Noam to go play for a little while on the swings.  Around the playground were a young mother with her 2-year-old daughter, and a trio of grandmothers watching grandchildren.  I felt like I belonged!  Sad, but true.

Together Again

He totally deserves all the attention he gets

Noam and I have been constant companions even since he was a year old.  When Michal went back to work, I was in school two days a week.  He went to a babysitter for two mornings, and the rest of the days he was in my care.  When I finished school at the end of last summer, he stopped going to the babysitter.  I took care of his every need, and if I needed to go anywhere, well, I just took him with.  It was as if the first paragraph of Shema Yisrael was referring to him: "When you lie down, when you get up, sitting in your house and walking on the way..."  Our close companionship was interrupted only when his mother brought him home a baby sister.  With her on maternity leave, I no longer had to be with him at all times, but a very special bond remained between us.  Not that she's out of the picture, we've gone back to our old gig.  I just mention that we need to go somewhere, he runs to get his hat and sandals.  He utters some semi-intelligible monosyllabic, and I know he wants a drink, or needs both stuffed dogs before he can take his nap.  We have an understanding that's not easy to come by.  But what does it mean if my closest companion is 1/17th of my age?

Day 6 - The First Cracks in the Dyke

The Beginning of the End?

I have to put up with these impudent children while my wife takes
family portraits in a suburb of Philly.  Somehow I'm not envious...

Today I had my first "meltdown", my first moment of true frustration and difficulty since the beginning of this journey, the first glimmer of doubt as to whether I will make it to the end of the month with a sound mind.  It wasn't anything special or particularly dramatic, just the children's callous refusals to participate in simple chores around the house.  The difference this time was that, A. I felt under much more pressure in general than I usually do, and B. I was truly offended by their lack of appreciation for the present reality.  I was also very exhausted in general, after spending half the night cleaning up the house and watching Reese Witherspoon's new movie "Wild".  I highly recommend it.  So I lay down for a few minutes, figuring if Mohammed doesn't want to go to the mountain, well that mountain will eventually just come to him.  And come it did.  Within a few minutes three different children came with various requests and supplications -- one wanted to be served dinner, one complained about harrassment from another party, and the third needed help with something.  I siezed on the opportunity and asked them to call the remaining two children, who were avoiding me since that were not performing the chores I had delegated to them.  Eventually I had them all congregated around my bed, and I waited for the banter to taper off.  Then I quietly and firmly reminded them that their mother will still be gone for many more days, and I cannot possibly get everything done on my own.  I made it clear that they were needed.  I begged them to stop being lazy and petty and take responsibility for themselves and for one another.  And it worked like magic!  My simple sincerity seemed to strike chord in their young hearts, and within minutes the chores I had asked to get done were taken care of, the hungry younger child was fed, and I got to sleep for another half an hour.  I now congratulate myself for handling it so well.  I was really close to just hitting them.

Lightening the Load

The unfinished tefillin.  One hour of my life and 18 NIS in parchment,
gone to waste.

Last fall, a friend's sister-in-law called me up to order two pairs of tefillin for her twin boys, who are to be Bar Mitzva in about two months from now.  While it's not usually necessary to order nine months in advance scrolls that take under a week to pen, under poor circumstances, neither is it being ridiculously cautious.  It really depends on the scribe's backlog.  At the time I had a backlog of about a month or so, but I was already working more on apps than on scrolls.  Initially I declined the order, since I had already made up my mind not to take on any more scribal work, but the woman was not satisfied with being given phone numbers of friends of mine who would be much happier to receive the work, and in my book no less deserving of it.  She called me back a week later.  "We decided that we only want you to write them for us.  We received very good recommendations about you, and we don't know these other scribes.  Will you do it?  We don't need it done until next summer."  At the time I had no confidence I would continue to get software gigs, so I decided it was at worst it would hold me over a little longer while looking for a steady job.  I committed to getting the tefillin done by Shavuot.  

A few weeks before Shavuot, she called up to check in , and I reassured her that the date still stood.  Well, last week I actually started writing them.  I finished about one twelfth of one pair, and tonight I was planning on making further progress.  Today she called again to ask if they would really be done in the next few days, because if that wasn't the case, she'd prefer to lodge an order with somebody else, who has more time for such things.  I was so relieved!  Throughout the phone call she said a number of times that she didn't hold it against me, even though her tone was more like, "Why did you lead me on like this, you scoundrel!"  I felt sort of bad that I hadn't kept to my word, but I really did try to discourage her from ordering from me at the outset.  As they say, when a girl says no, she really means no... What?  Never mind...

Better Half Full

Tonight I skyped with Michal for a spell after all the kids were asleep, and she told me of her very low-key Shabbat staying with a family in Philadelphia she was once close with, who since have become total empty nesters, and are in the middle of packing up the house in order to move to New Jersey.  Not only was the house devoid of anyone her generation, there was barely any furniture around.  At the end of the phone call, it took us a really long time to say goodbye.  I just didn't want to let go.  It felt so comfortable and comforting to chat and gaze upon my companion of 14 years.  I think she felt the same way.  Four weeks seems like a short time on the calendar, or when planning things out over the course of a season, but when you're stuck in the middle of it, it's an eternity.  Thinking back to the closing of that phone call an hour ago, I realize that I'm feeling some of the same things I did when we were engaged.  Then it really was an eternity.  

We were engaged for a full 10 months, 6 months out of which we didn't see each other at all.  Not even on Skype.  This was 15 years ago; Skype hadn't been born yet.  I was studying in a yeshiva here in Israel, and Michal was finishing her degree at the U of C.  Twice a week, late at night, I'd plug into the yeshiva office's phone line (with permission) and dial up the connection to the ISP.  Then we'd have a stulted conversation (there was terrible lag) over ICQ voice chat.  This was our only contact for 6 months.  That was the absolute loneliest time of my life, no question.  Not only was I estranged from the woman I wanted to be with, I hard a difficult time socially, integrated with all the Israeli boys in the yeshiva.  I had no close friends, and no family to be with except from my great-aunt and a couple of third cousins scattered around the Jerusalem area.  Boy I'm sure glad that's all over and done with!

Day 5 - Sabbath Rest

Elusive Harmony

For Shabbat, Chanania and Amiel went to their third cousins in Elad (Gurevitz, mentioned previously), which they enjoyed immensely.  That means I had only three kids at home, the two eldest and Noam.  Binyamin and Avigail have, for the past many months, developed a very hostile attitude toward one another.  They're constantly looked for ways to heckle each other, and the heckling frequent degrades into physical violence.  It's quite annoying for everyone around, but fortunately Avigail is very busy with extracurricular activities, youth movement and friends, so she's not in the house so much.  Spending Shabbat with just the two of them (Noam doesn't have much of a presence, and goes to bed very early), I thought, might be a good opportunity for reconciliation, both because I wouldn't be preoccupied by the demands of many younger siblings, and because when there are only more mature personas present, it creates a different atmosphere with clear expectations not to behave like little immature brats.  Well, in the end I was not entirely let down.  I had a chance to talk with them about how maybe it's time to give up on all the bickering, because it's pointless, fruitless, and nobody enjoys it, etc.  And there were also long stretches during the day when they were both home, not fighting, and sometimes even interacting in a friendly manner.  But most of the time they were still at each other's throats...

The Haven for Temporary Single Parents

All week long, I've had very little opportunity for real interaction with other adults.  All day long I'm interfacing with children, computer screens, and the occasional piece of parchment.  So after they all went to bed on Friday night, I popped over to my friend Nir's house, just to hang out.  When I walked in the door, I saw a whole crowd of children settling in on mattresses on the living room floor, getting ready to have a big sleepover party.  I immediately identified half the children as belonged to close friends of theirs, the Gabbais.  A moment later, the foreign children's mother emerged from a room, but their father was nowhere to be seen.  It was then explained to me that he had to travel to the US on business for 10 days, and Sharon (the mother of the children) didn't like to be alone, so she was spending Shabbat with them.  The two of were in the same situation, and we both gravitated to the same friends to seek solace! 

Here's Nir off to the right, in a musical/spoken voice show he put together two years ago, just some things he needed to get out of his system.  He's not a professional musician, but rather a soundman, electrician, carpenter, and general handyman.

What You Do When Your Spouse is Away

I used organic spelt matza instead of lasagna noodles.
It was cheaper and easier to prepare, while giving nearly the same
texture and flavor.

When we got married, I was a vegan.  No animal products whatsoever.  Two years later, after a single day of basic training in the army during which I had very little to eat, I started eating eggs and milk products.  Five years later, I resumed eating animal flesh.  By this time, both because of my dietary habits up until that point, and because of research and interest we'd taken into keeping a healthy kitchen, Michal was steadily heading towards becoming more and more vegan, while I was headed in the opposite direction.  Eventually we hit a balance that was good for both of us: no milk products (well, almost none.  Who can resist ice cream once in a while, and cheesecake on Shavuot, and...), because even if they don't have antibiotics and bovine growth hormones (say, if you want to spend twice the money and buy organic products), animal milk is not meant for humans!  Fish, poultry, beef -- sparingly, meaning about once a week and usually on Shabbat as well.  But sometimes I get cravings for foods we believe to be unhealthy, and while Michal's fierce Russian discipline keeps here from even wishing for such sinful foods, when I'm left to my own devices I like to treat myself to more animal products than the usual.  So this Shabbat I prepared a 2-cheese lasagna for myself and the kids (Michal makes an incredible meaty lasagna.  Ask her for the recipe).  It was delicious, and felt satisfyingly guilty as well.