Blogging can wait

Every now and then I google myself, just to see what comes up. And every time I see my last post here, over a year ago, I think to myself "yeah, I'll get back to blogging soon...". But it hasn't happened lately, and likely won't happen soon. So I felt the need for a short post on why I'm not blogging. Not that I have a huge readership, or that anyone is waiting breathlessly to read what I'm writing, really just more to justify to myself why I've stopped.

I can sum it up in one word: priorities. I would love to share my thoughts and insights and life events, but that would leave me with no time to have a life. So I'm choosing sleep, and family, and homework hounding, and taking a few minutes here and there to sip a cup of coffee quietly instead of hunching over the computer trying to write something clever and coherent.

One day I believe I'll get back to it, when there's time, or if I have something really important to say. In the meantime, it can wait.

Make it a good one

Since both my birthday and Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, fell on the same day this year, I promised myself that by the end of the holiday I would come up with a list of things I've accomplished this past year, things I'd like to accomplish in the coming year, and things I need to improve on, to make better this year than last. That's actually 3 lists. None of which I actually prepared, at least not in writing.

I thought about these lists in the shower, I thought about them while cooking, and even while in synagogue (in between chasing my 4-yr old and picking up spilled cheerios and apple slices). And although I didn't get any of them down in writing (not yet, hold on) I realized I've accomplished a lot over the past year. That said, I have even more to improve on in the year to come.

Last year flew by, lots of challenges at home with the kids, lots of changes at work. Luckily, the changes are mostly for the better, at least from my perspective. Thank G-d. I've heard some pretty nasty work stories from friends in other places.

The home front, now, that's a whole different story. Each day comes with its own new adventures, new approaches, new frustrations and new successes. I have to fight to communicate with my 12 year old son, to get him to do homework, to try to squeeze him into some semblance of a schedule, and I know I yelled at him way too much last year. Another challenge is keeping my other 2 sons on track as well. And making sure everyone is well-fed and healthy. And trying to spend quality time with my husband. And getting my life more organized. And, and, and...Sigh.

So, how do I plan to improve things this year? Here's my list, narrowed down to the top 10 most critical changes I'd like to make this year (and since I'm going all out and posting them here, I expect you to hold me to them):

1. Don't yell (or, realistically, yell less).


2. Exercise.


3. Get more sleep.


4. Make more family dinners we all sit down to together.


5. Follow up more closely on children's school & homework.


6. Look for the positive in everything and reinforce it.


7. Go out alone with husband (to movie, dinner, coffee, whatever!) at least once a month.


8. Volunteer.


9. Demonstrate patience & respect, and try to instill these more strongly in children.


10. Make the extra effort, even if I really don't feel like it.

Now, you may be thinking that some of these items shouldn't be too hard- but let me assure you that everything on this list has been tried and tested, and will take a genuine effort on my part to achieve consistently. I think they're all pretty quantifiable, and there's a pretty good balance among them.

A new year always brings with it so much promise, so much hope, so much opportunity. With all of the above in mind, I will try to make the most of it.

Breakfast in America

So here I am in Pennsylvania, USA.

Flew over for a work-related internal conference that is turning out to be both an eye-opener, and a warm fuzzy experience. Lots of good people in my company doing really good things, and here we are working towards getting all this goodness together. Good times.

The 12 hour flight over on Continental was surprisingly painless - their new in-flight entertainment system is awesome (gotta give credit where due), with tons of movies, tv shows and music to choose from. The stewardess' must've thought I was a goober for laughing out loud so much, but how could I not watch all 4 episodes of Everybody Hates Chris and listen to Billy Joel's 52nd Street when the opportunity presented itself?


And things are going well so far - nice hotel, good food, successful meetings. I even had a chance to take a walk along some nice nature trails this morning. The absence of noisy kids trailing behind me led me to lots of deep thoughts along the way - accompanied by a gaggle of Canadian Geese (click on photo to see them) and their honking chorus. Thought about family, and how frustrating it is that my kids so rarely see my family because we live so far away. Thought about why we still haven't moved to the US, in spite of the never-ending debate me and the Big Guy have about moving to a better quality of life, how much better the service is everywhere, how much nicer people are here. Thought about 9/11, since that's today, and how that totally changed the America I grew up in, and brought it closer in many senses to Israel.

And still, as much as I enjoy visiting America, I must say that I don't feel 100% American anymore. Nor do I feel 100% Israeli. I'm stuck in a kind of grey area between the two, where my Israeli cynicism has jaded how I see America - and my American naivete and manners prevent me from truly reaching native Israeli status.

So tomorrow, as I sit and eat a blueberry pop-tart (they have very cool breakfast add-ons here at the hotel...) I will enjoy the flavors and friendliness and nostalgia that America offers, but continue looking forward to getting back to Israel, my home.

September Make Haste

Did I say earlier that there was a special summer feeling in the air? Yes, I suppose I did, back in July. That was at the beginning of the summer, the kids had just finished school, they still had arrangements for additional activities, and I was continuing to work as usual. Summertime was a blissful, vacational concept. And then came August.


If July 1st comes as a breath of fresh air, then September 1st comes as a rescue mission, the light at the end of this seemingly infinite summer break that leaves both parents and children exhausted and ready to get back on a schedule. And it seems to be a national consensus. In the last 2 weeks of August, when parents meet, they all greet each other with the same question: "So, how are you surviving the end of the summer?" And it's like this every year - especially difficult with young children, whose day care arrangements (pre-school, extended day camp, etc) usually come to an end after the first week of August. Leaving us with 3-4 weeks of absolutely no schedule, no framework, bored/tired/anxious/antsy kids, and very few vacation days.

So, yeah, when my children told me that they were looking forward to getting back to school, I know that the summer was close to its end. And not a moment too soon.

You are now leaving the comfort zone

Ever realize that the path to getting somewhere is much more enlightening than the destination itself? That was yesterday.

I suppose I could give an overview of what happened last night at the Nefesh B’Nefesh International Jewish Bloggers Conference in Jerusalem, but that's been done by numerous Jbloggers more famous and reputable than I here, here and here. Instead, I can't seem to stop thinking about what happened along the way.

I took a bus. That in itself is a stretch for me, since I have a car, and I've been driving for years. The combination of a terrible sense of direction and really bad night vision made me decide not to make the drive to Jerusalem this time. I haven't taken a bus anywhere for ages, and it's not that I mind, or that I'm a public transportation snob - on the contrary, it actually felt good to get out of my comfort zone a little bit. A little bit, though, that would've been enough.

Actually I took a train and a bus. And while waiting at the train station, I looked around me, and saw the Israel that I had somehow "left" many years ago, all the while still living here in the middle of it, traded for my suburban oblivion. There was a young ultra-orthodox family sitting across from me, children running, father mumbling, mother knitting...there was a teenager talking to her friends by cellphone about what kinds of snacks they should bring to the Scout meeting that evening...there were soldiers flirting with the woman behind the sandwich counter...and many others. All representing the different faces of Israel that I had originally fallen in love with, and that brought me to this country 15 years ago. But sitting there now, they all felt so distant, so different, as if they were part of another dimension of Israel that I no longer come into contact with. And that made me sad.

In our struggle for better "quality of life" here, we moved to a small town in the center of Israel - which is both very close to everything, but also very detached from everything (aka suburbia). And that's exactly what my husband and I wanted when we moved here. But over the years, and as the family has grown, I find that my whole world is basically either at home or at work, or in the car on the way to either one. And that being the case, I have almost zero exposure to what's going on in the big cities, in the malls and coffee shops, on the streets, and in the world at large that's so close - and at the same time so far from my day-to-day life.

So, arriving at the central bus station in Jerusalem yesterday was kind of a treat. I haven't been there in years, so it was quite a surprise to get off the bus and head into a sleek, modern shopping mall, filled with the vendors, bakeries, and music stores that used to be what gave the bus station its unique flavor. But bringing them inside this fluorescent-lit, air conditioned, 3-story mall has changed that too - comfortable yes, authentic no. Only seeing a prayer-book vending machine there (like those snack machines at the hospital!) made me laugh out loud and think, only in Jerusalem.

But I digress. After taking a third bus together with the help of A Mother in Israel, I arrived at the conference. It was pretty packed, with lots of mingling going on, and with a great sandwich spread. (Did I mention that I suck at shmoozing?) Silly me, I had assumed that Jbloggers would be a mix of Jews of all ages and backgrounds from different perspectives, different religious outlooks, and maybe even some "native" Israelis. Boy was I wrong. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised to see so many orthodox Jews at a Jewish blogger conference (mostly Anglos who had moved to Israel, in this case) - they were most definitely the majority.

So, deep thoughts here. Does identifying yourself as a Jewish blogger mean only that the focus of your blog is on Jewish topics? On religion? or on religious life? Or, are Jewish bloggers people who are Jewish and who blog (about anything, not necessarily related to Judaism)? I am sure that an "Israeli bloggers conference" would have had a completely different turnout - more secular, more business-related, wider span of topics and concerns and people. I suppose I consider myself both a Jewish and an Israeli blogger - but not because those are specific topics I blog about. Rather, they are 2 aspects of my daily life, and therefore show up occasionally in my blog.

Tremendous credit goes to Nefesh B'Nefesh for putting on this event - I believe that it will be one of the first of many similar events that will hopefully widen the focus and reach of Jbloggers everywhere.

Although there were some good speakers on the panels (btw check out WhatWarZone, it's hilarious!), even some non-religious, and one very long-winded former Prime Minister... I realized I would have been wiser to watch the conference online than to travel all this way (and I still haven't mentioned the 1 1/2 half-hour bus ride home).

The other realization is that as comfortable as it is, I should get out of my bubble more often to renew my love of and exposure to the 'real' Israel. But next time, I'm driving.

From sorrow to joy in record time

Last week, most of the country was glued to the news as we watched or heard about the return of the Israeli soldiers Regev and Goldvasser by Hizbulla, in exchange for their terrorist prisoners.

Although the facts all pointed to the fact that they were probably not alive, we all still wanted to belive that maybe there was hope, maybe they'd come home alive. When the 2 black coffins were shown on the tv screen, it was clear that there was really no reason for celebration. The whole country lapsed into a state of mourning, and all day I was glued to internet news or tv or radio to hear updates.

Fast forward...later that same day.

That evening, we went to a wedding. One that had obviously been planned and set months and months in advance, with no idea what news that morning would bring. I thought to myself how terrible for the couple that this very sad news happened today, that this will be what they remember of their wedding date, and how can people rejoice after something like that happens.

But the amazing thing about Israelis is how resilient they are. Just as the people of this country know when to unite in their strength and sorrow, they also know that joyous occasions must be celebrated with a whole heart.

It was a Yemenite wedding, with beautiful vocal song before the ceremony, the bride and groom yemenite stepping right up to the huppa, and non stop dancing, yemenite and other. And people were so happy -- happy to have a reason to be happy.

It's the circle of life, I suppose, the events we mark and measure our lives against and hope that joy will come sooner and more often than sorrow.

This cycle is apparent in so many Jewish/Israeli customs. Breaking the glass at weddings, to remember the destruction of the Temple before the real celebration begins. Israeli Memorial Day and Independence Day - a kind of bipolar holiday - when the lowest of lows are followed by the highest of highs. Although the manic-depressive nature of these customs is emotionally draining, the logic is there. Remember your losses in order to appreciate your wins.

I suppose the harsh reality is that people here are used to it, if that's ever possible. Let's just hope that reasons to celebrate outnumber anything else...

That's my family in your peanut butter...

Growing up, peanut butter was always a staple in our house.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were the default brown bag solution, and more than a few times I caught my dad spooning it straight out of the jar. I even got a Mr. Peanut home peanut butter maker for my 7th birthday (you remember him, right? the peanut dude with the top hat and white gloves - peanuts go in one ear, crank his arm and the peanut butter comes out the other ear - who could want anything more?)

When my own children were younger, I worked hard to get them used to eating peanut butter, even though it wasn't always easy to come by here in Israel, but to little avail. Their tastes changed, rendering PB&J to them as just one of those "American foods" that Mommy liked to eat sometimes.

And then, from a very random Twitter link to a company called P.B. Loco, a light of hope the size of a peanut started to flicker and glow. This company impressed me with their excitement and desire to get people involved in their product through the social media world - from asking for suggestions for new flavors and product names, to holding trivia contests - to get the word out, offering free flavored jars of PB to the winners. So I replied to a few of their contests through Twitter, signed up as a fan on Facebook , and even kind of resorted to begging when I realized that, living outside of the US, I might not really even be eligible to win.

But the fine people of PB Loco came through, and did indeed send me a sample jar of chocolate banana peanut butter. Here's the description on the label (I dare you not to drool as you read it):

"This one was almost too easy. Deep, rich chocolate and untamed bananas from the heart of the jungle fused with our premium peanut butter. Caution: After you taste this, you may need a few minutes to finish the entire jar."

The day we picked up the package from the post office, we were on our way home after a week-long vacation in the South of Israel - hot, tired, and hungry. I actually believed that I'd be able to save the jar of gourmet flavored PB until we got home, maybe even til the next day, to make proper sandwiches. (I hear you laughing out there, but I really thought we'd savour it slowly...HA!)

It started with little fingers in the back seat, scooping bit by bit, delighting in the chocolate swirls. Joy of joys! My boys actually liked peanut butter again! Then the jar was passed on to big Daddy's fingers (still in the car, mind you - about five minutes from home), who, although never a big fan of peanut butter, actually held on for more. The jar stopped in my hands. Fingerfulls led to spoonfulls, then once we were home, led to breadfulls. And within the span of less than one hour we were scraping the very last creamy smudges off the inside of the emptied jar. It was amazing.

And all this, I thought later, started with a few lines in Twitter. What potential the world of social media has to influence us, to invite us in and win us over. It's a relationship that starts with a friendly note, a question, or a bit of advice, and continues with a satisfied and returning customer.

Now that I've got the peanut butter momentum going again in my family, I'm trying to decide which of their new flavors to order by mail, and which flavors to send to my dad for his next birthday. PB with Rasberry White Chocolate, PB with European Cafe Mocha, PB with Raisins and Cinammon - oh, the choices!

Really, it's driving me nuts.

On the way to eilat

Sand in all directions, an occasional camel, and a car full of snacks - on the 4 hour drive to the southern tip of israel.

Switch into Summer

Ready...28, 29, 30. SWITCH!

Hallelujah. We made it to July 1st, the day after the last day of school. The first official day of summer vacation (for kids). And it is unbelievable how just one day can make such a difference in the atmoshphere of a community (dare I say, whole country?)

It started when I didn't have to nudge the big boys out of bed this morning to get ready for school. It continued as, on my way out of our town to work, I saw the younger kids lining up for day camp at the local community center, shiny camp hats on their heads and water bottles slung over their shoulders. Groups of teenagers cheering them on, proudly wearing their "counselor" t-shirts (scary thought, let's not go there).

It continued as I got to work in record time, less the usual traffic on the freeway, since apparently other parents either got out on the road earlier, or are taking time off themselves. And now, people at work are talking about who's going on what summer trips, and when. It really all of a sudden feels like summertime.

But if you think about it, nothing has really changed - the kids have switched from school to camp (or, for the first time, are just staying home all day, in our case). Work carries on as usual. It's still really, unbearably hot outside. But there is something in the air that is different. Summer vacation. There's something even liberating about those two words.

I suppose the best thing would be not to analyze why it feels different, but just to enjoy. Summer vacation. Aaaaahhhh.

The Birthday Bratz

My niece just turned 6 years old. Yesterday, she and a friend had a "Bratz" birthday party with all the kids from her kindergarten class (and their siblings...roughly 40+ kids). They had a very colorful, peppy, and LOUD clown performing, dressing kids up as Bratz, singing and dancing along to all the latest kids' party tunes. There were plenty of refreshments outside for the parents who chose to stay nearby until the end of the party, and plenty of sweets and snacks for the kids inside.

Now, don't get me wrong - I believe that children's birthdays should be celebrated and made a big deal out of, so that the kids really do feel that it's their special day. And I know that kids love all that raucous music and those sparkly arm-tattooes and balloon animals and the clown with the microphone blasting yet another round of hokey pokey - until it comes out their ears.

The part I could do without, though, is the "afterparty" with the rest of the family. This same gathering that happens after weddings and bar mitzvahs, and other big gift-giving occasions. And I've got to wonder what kind of effect it has on the birthday girl herself. This after-party is when all the guests have gone, when the grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins are dying to go home, but must sit through the gift opening ceremony. For "adult" events, it's the envelope opening, counting checks and cash - comparing who gave how much, and whether the amount is considered respectable ("That's nice, Ginny's gift covered the price of her plate, plus the tablepiece"), generous ("Mmm, how very nice of Uncle Moishe to give this gift, he came alone AND lives only on his pension"), or embarassing ("Can you believe that Cousin Yossi only gave such-and-such amount? He came with 3 kids and ate 5 desserts...the nerve!")

I was first exposed to this tradition in my husband's family after our own wedding, and it never ceases to shock and appall me (I heard it happens in other families too, but never actually witnessed it outside our walls). Call me silly, or even naive, I am just happy that people choose to come and celebrate our occasions with us; what they choose to give as a gift is their prerogative - I respect and accept that without a second thought. BUT, I guess not everyone goes with the flow like I do... not in this country, at least.

So there we sat, watching the 6 year old open her presents - with her mother sorting every one. There was the "Bratz"-themed present pile, the other girlie gifts pile, and the exchange or re-give pile. And with every gift there was a comment: "They're good friends, I'm surprised she gave such a skimpy gift" or "Most of the people gave presents worth at least 30 shekels, I saw this water bottle in the store for only 20" or "We gave their son a really nice *brand-name* shirt for his birthday, I would have expected something a little nicer" - and on and on...you get the idea. There were nice, positive comments for some of the gifts that apparently met their standards, but they were the exception.

I love my sister-in-law, she is an amazing and generous person with a really big heart and lots of other more challenging issues to deal with in her life. Maybe that's why it still surprises me to hear her say things like that. Because it's got to have an effect on the girl. She is being raised to judge people on what kinds of gifts they give instead of genuine appreciation for the people themselves. She is learning to compare and compete in an area of life that should be reserved for just being thankful. Once I was even so bold as to say this out loud - everyone agreed, and then continued commenting...

I would probably be a fool to think that this is an isolated occurrence. It is apparently what people are doing everywhere, but especially in the community my sister-in-law and her family live in. The translated name of the town is "Mother of all Towns", and although far from rich or exclusive, this town also seems to be the Mother of all Snobs. I won't go into detail here (maybe save this for another post) about the jeweled flip-flops the mothers were wearing, or the way they wrinkled their noses at the goodie bags handed out at the end of the party - but it's part of a larger, and much more distressing change in values that parents are passing on (or NOT) to their children. Even the fact that my niece wanted a Bratz-themed birthday party is related to this set of priorities, somehow... I think.

Obviously I cannot change these people, but I can do my best to make sure that I transmit more positive messages and values to my own children. There's a lot more to it than just teaching them to say "Thank you".