Category: Life in General

Libraries are not for little  boys.

I knew that.

But I was being a good Facebook mom and taking my five little boys to the library.

Maybe it was the sunny weather or maybe it was my good mood, but for some reason I believed all those who told me that the local library was a great place for kids.

It’s beautiful, special kids wing, it’s new and nice, there’s lots to do there…

So there we were, heading from the parking lot to the library, reviewing library etiquette on the way. My little boys nodded along, agreeing with it all.

The first red flag came when we passed the fountain out front. The type of fountain that makes the minds of little boys race, trying to figure out the quickest way they can somehow get wet. On their tippy-toes, desperately trying to reach up and into the water…

Still optimistic, I gathered them up and reminded them of our exciting plans of actually going into the library..

The second red flag followed too soon, when we had to cross through the adult section of the library in order to reach our destination.

And it was silent.

I mean deafeningly silent.

It hurt my ears, I had not heard such loud silence in years.

I shushed my five little boys and rushed them through the room lest one of them makes so much as a peep.

And I silently wondered; what would happen if someone made noise in a library? Who said you can’t read in noise? I mean, I manage just fine. After all, I can read a whole recipe without the sounds of crying, laughing, shouting, toy fire engines and garbage trucks even slightly distracting me! Or maybe that’s why every now and then I mess up a recipe and forget an ingredient or two…

We made it to our destination. And just as I carefully planned, the after school crowd hadn’t come yet and the preschool kids were taken home for naps already, so it was just me and five of my little boys.

And they sat down at the little table with the  activities, long enough for me to snap a pic and Whatsapp it to one of my doubting friends, to say, “See, it’s working out great!”

Five minutes later, it was still working! I settled in on one of the nice inviting couches. Baby is sleeping, rest of the boys are busy; wow, this just might be a relaxing afternoon. We should come here every day!

Except for the other couch. The large u-shaped couch that has a wide flat surface leading from the back of the couch to the window. That, to my kids’ eyes, is nothing short of a stage. Or walkway. Or runway.

Warning 1, 2 and 3 are issued.

We are not climbing. We do not climb in libraries. How about a book about trucks? Chickens? Cities? People? Anything?

Like I said, libraries are not for little boys. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t visited the library in 7 years…it was suddenly coming back to me.

And perhaps libraries should call in moms of boys to design the kids’ section. Before consulting any contractors, they need to make sure the room is boy proof. No ledges or edges, no poles, no slats – nothing that can be mistaken for a play structure.

So out we went, with the little boys trailing behind, wondering out loud why we were leaving.

And I reprimanded myself quite firmly, “You can not be angry at them! Little boys don’t belong in a library, why did you take them there in the first place?!”

And off we went, to the place where little boys belong.

To the park.

And they played and ran and jumped; climbed and swung on the swings and splashed in the drinking fountain; acting like normal little boys because that’s what I was allowing them to be.

I have to remind myself of my mantra more often; Don’t believe anything you see on Facebook.

I keep pressing backspace; whatever I write just doesn’t seem to come out right.

I’ll try again.

He was a giant of a man. He was larger than life. He cared for everyone.

It’s all true. But it doesn’t seem to really explain who Zaidy was. It sounds like just Anyone’s biography. And Zaidy was certainly not just Anyone.

So I’ll try yet again.

He was timeless. He was 90 but too young to leave us. He only saw the positive in everything and everyone. He made an impact on the life of thousands of people.

It sounds so cliche, but it’s all true! Yet, it’s still missing the heart of who Zaidy was.

He educated thousands of children in the Torah’s ways. He dedicated himself to reaching out to every Jewish person he came in contact with. He worked full time, every day of his life. He never retired and never got old.

It’s all Zaidy; every word of it.

But it still not capturing the life of Zaidy.

And the more I write, the more I realize that words alone will never suffice to describe my Zaidy; Zaidy isn’t someone you can just write about; Zaidy was life. And the words themselves are only half the picture.

And the other half are the memories I hold close to me.

The shared memories of me, my family and my relatives. The precious memories of love for all of us, never ending enthusiasm for anything we were telling him and patience for each one of us. And when I say “us”, thats a few hundred “us”, the lucky grandchildren.

He made each of us feel as though we were his only grandchild.

In my memories, Zaidy is full of life. Passionately sharing a word on the parsha. Enthusiastically telling us a story at the Shabbos table; every story he told felt as though he was there to witness it. On the way to some far out little city to find a lonely Jew who needs some motivation to pursue Judaism. Boarding a plane to yet another grandchild’s wedding. Holding yet another great grandchild, as Sandek of the bris. Listening to a three year old grandchild reciting his alef bais, glowing with pride. Patiently asking my children what they were learning in Chumash, so eager to hear their responses.

And glowing grandchildren lined up, waiting for his warm embrace.

Bubby and Zaidy were an inseparable pair; together they not only raised a large family, they raised a community and a generation. They lived for the same goals, aspired for the same dreams.

Yet Zaidy never sat back to marvel at what he accomplished – even though he had every right to! He only kept moving forward. His focus was the next generation; making sure they were educated and trusted to continue his holy work.

It’s so hard to share the memories properly, complete with their rich warmth and life. And I don’t think I ever can.

The other night we had a conference call with lots of cousins. And we shared memories. And we all felt it; we all knew Zaidy, and we felt the life of these memories.

And that’s where I know Zaidy will continue to live.

Pen and paper alone are not enough.

He will live with each one of us, his grandchildren.

And as the sadness sets in that Zaidy, our patriarch, our role model, our grandfather who was blessed to live until 90 without ever getting old is no longer with us, I know he will continue to live in all of us. All of us who know his life, who felt his warmth, and who still feel the love when we talk about him.

Zaidy will continue to live in how I live my life.

With his positive outlook on life; with his patience for every child; with his love for each one of his children, grandchild and great grandchildren; with his incredible ability to always see the good in everything; with his great respect and admiration for Bubby, with his determination to reach every Jew and share with them the joy of Judaism, with his passion for Torah and mitzvos; and with his acceptance of everyone, as they are. 

And I think I know the secret to how he was able to do all this; how he was able to be 90 but young, to get older without ever aging.

Turning 90 was but a mere detail of his active and busy life.

Because he never retired.

He never sat back, saying his work was complete and it’s time to relax. His life was not about himself, it was about everyone else.

When you have a life worth living, you never retire.

“What grade is he in?”

Oh no, not that conversation again!

I answer while trying to hide my impatience, knowing the next question coming from this fellow mom.

“Really? How old is he?”

Do I need to really answer? Do you really care how old he is? But I’m too polite, I casually answer anyway.

“How can that be, isn’t he too young for that grade? Why did you push him up?”

I smile sweetly, not reflecting my annoyance.

No, he obviously is not too young, or the school wouldn’t allow him in that class. Like I said, does it bother you?!

And I marvel once again at a familiar mommy trait that surfaces so often amongst well-meaning moms when in conversation.

We get uptight when we hear that someone else’s child appears to be “ahead” of ours.  A grade ahead, a subject ahead, even a shoe size ahead.

You name it, despite that fact that it’s so irrelevant, it pushes that mommy-alert button. And we take it as our mission to share some unsolicited advice of why our fellow mom should doubt her decision.

See, my son is one of the younger ones in his class, second to youngest to be precise.  Considering the not-so-typical schooling he had, with kids that were not his age, he learnt different skills at a different rate than if he was in a plain old boring typical school. That, together with his extremely sharp, energetic and quick mind, made the decision which grade to put him in all the more critical. Some kids will just go with the flow wherever they are. And some kids won’t.

So it was a choice between being the oldest of one grade or youngest of the other.

It was a choice between keeping him challenged and on his toes and  or make him suffer in boredom, relearning skills and material he knew and therefore he’d drive his teacher crazy.

It was a decision for the parents, namely myself and my husband, who know our dear son the very best, to decide.

And each option had pros and cons. It was not simple. But one side eventually outweighed the other, and we made our decision. He would do much better as the youngest of the class, where he would be challenged.

One thing I hadn’t counted on, however, was the abundance of self doubt that would be induced by so many well meaning moms!

I know, I have been the receiver of the above conversation more times than I can count. And there’s nothing quite like the feeling of being made to doubt my own decision. The panic. The worry.

Am I ruining my child?

Help, what if this will destroy his self esteem?

What if I’m ruining his chances of success in life?

The what-ifs are endless!

But I’ve learned how to fight the self doubt.

See, it’s pretty simple.

I’m the mom. My husband is the dad. We know our kids best. And until someone lives with someone else’s children, they’re really not qualified to give an opinion.

It’s a big responsibility to decide where to place your child; some schools offer no flexibility, Some schools do offer options; like the schools my kids attend. And so I need to trust myself.

I’ve met some moms who are adamant that they’re kid should be the oldest in the class; kind of gives the kid the upper hand over the rest of the class.

And that’s where I get to exercise my commitment of not judging other moms’ decisions, because I strongly disagree with that sentiment!

Personally, my opinion is, someone has to be the oldest and someone has to be the youngest. So that’s not the most important factor in my decisions.

I prefer to consider their social skills, their nature, how they are stimulated and how they are challenged.

And so when the conversation starts up again and I say, “Yes, he is one of the younger kids in the class,” I take a deep breath to remind myself firmly;  I’m the mother, I know my kid best.

And I make a mental note of a golden mommy rule; no one appreciates unsolicited advice about their kids. And even more importantly, don’t ever judge another mom’s decisions.

So to all my fellow moms out there making these decisions, listen up; you can find professional advice advocating both sides. You can get opinions from everyone down to the bus driver and the mailman. Why, you can even ask the wonderful wide world of Facebook and get to hear from every and any non professional in the region! There’s no end to the options!

But will it help make a decision? Or just make you doubt your gut feeling?

Forget the professionals; use your motherly instincts.

You know your kid best. Despite what other moms will tell you.

It’s been a long writing break; I’ve been busy. Busy making menus.

It all starts with Rosh Hashanah – time to get those menus together!

I start browsing cookbooks and Facebook groups for the newest, most exciting recipes.

Pomegranate fig salad; Carrot leek tartlets; Honey crusted apple something or other.

The options are endless, but I make sure to stick to my golden rules; only try recipes with ingredients I recognize and names I know how to pronounce.

That usually saves me from shopping at 8 different stores to find ingredients and then using every bowl in the kitchen to assemble a 15 step recipe.

Pies and creams, yes. Tortes, pavlova, ganache, no.

I finalize and get to work; 6 meals, 12 side dishes, 18 salads. And even though the first meal is for 65 people, that still doesnt faze me…I’m full steam ahead! I have one day at home with just me and the sleeping 18 month old – I cram a weeks worth of work into a few hours.

I’m feeling smug – I’ve got it all down pat. Never mind the 35 lbs of Challah in the freezer that I made two weeks ago. This Tishrei is going to be a cinch!

Great desserts, creative tasty sides, not too unhealthy desserts… Meal 1…meal 2…meal 5…

Funny how the food is looking less appetizing, the tantalizing sides less appealing….and meal 6 at last. I barely finish my plate and eye the cereal and milk hungrily.

I don’t want to see chicken and meat, no matter how well disguised, for a long time.

Not more than a day or two later, it’s menu time again.

Yom Kippur. 2 pre fast meals. 1 break fast for 50. Help. Do we really need to serve food? I push it off another day…and then face the cookbooks. Time to keep it simple. Things that don’t need much advance prep. Yom Kippur comes and passes. By the time the break fast arrives, what do you know, the appetite is back.

And so is the ambition. Succos menus, here we come!! 18 salads, 12 sides, 6 mains. I’m not quite as creative as pre Rosh Hashana mode, but definitely better than pre Yom Kippur. Only ingredients I can pronounce. Only names of recipes that are easy to identify. I’m satisfied with the results and ready to get to work.

Another few intense hours that all the kids are out, and I work without taking a moment to breathe, once again patting myself on the back for the many Challahs in the freezer (which I am in denial about the dwindling supply…)

Meal 1, nice salads, some new recipes. Meal 2…meal 3….meal 4…let’s skip the salads and just eat main dishes…meal 5….lets skip the mains and just eat the salads….meal 6…let’s just have tuna sandwiches…I don’t want to see this food anymore!

Chol Hamoed. A break at last.

What, we need to eat supper on Chol Hamoed too??

Hot dogs will do. Pizza (home made, but still a good change) the next night. The kids are thrilled and so am I!

And then I face reality; the challah supply is gone. Gone!

I roll up my sleeves, and this time with a kitchen full of little underfoot helpers, we bake challah. I begrudgingly pull out my dear, trusty Bosch mixer…and we get to work.

Well, I get to work while the kids are undoing my work. I take out the sugar. I turn around and it’s gone. 3 year old walked off with it. I take out the salt, turn around and it’s gone. Five year old is hiding in a corner with it. Newly walking climbing 18 month old is sitting as a centerpiece on the dining room table, center stage, waiting for mommy to flip out and take him off. One of his favorite games. I run to relocate him, at the cost of the flour disappearing. This is nooooot working.

I work on fast forward, safeguarding my ingredients and getting the dough done.

And then it’s time to face the real fun…no, it can’t be…there must be a mistake…

It’s time to make menus!!

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.

Who can think of food? Who wants to think of food??

And yes, I think of all those oh-so-smart Yom Tov advice giver people who give such great tips like – whatever you make, make double or triple of and freeze….fill your freezer….

Who has time to double, triple recipes and fill the freezer when there’s barely enough time to get  today’s to do list done!

It’s inevitable…I gotta get working. More chicken and meat.

I’m even sick of pastry dough. How many different foods can you hide in pastry dough!?

So I bake some cakes and tell the kids we’ll just eat cake for each meal.

They’re thrilled.

I go back to the basics. The regular recipes. the ones that are so simple they don’t even have a descriptive title.

Like chicken. Potatoes. String beans.

And meal 1 comes…meal 2…meal 3…

Now that I’m not spending so much time obsessing over foods, I can actually think about the holidays.

And I realize it’s almost done. Where have 21 holiday meals gone??

Meal 4…meal 5…and meal 6 rolls around, to the tune of more chicken and gefilte fish.

And what a beautiful month it was.

And I can’t wait to have cereal and milk for supper tomorrow night.

His eyes were gleaming.
“I entered the raffle for the Ipad! I can’t wait to win!”

I tried to share my 9 year old’s naive enthusiasm, but it wasn’t working.

Uh oh, I don’t want him to be disappointed when he doesn’t win. What’s the chances of winning anyway? I better help him realize he might not win.

“You think you’ll win?” I ask causally.
“Of course I’ll win. I just don’t know if I’ll keep it, or sell it. If I sell it, there’s so many things I can do with the money!” And he starts listing the endless options of what he can buy..rrI’m already seeing the disappointment when he doesn’t win, and it’s too painful.

What was that article I read about helping kids deal with disappointment…5 Things Every Parent Must Know To Help Their Child Succeed…right, I better start now.

“Well, you know, alot of people entered the raffle, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll win.”
I see the gleam leaving his eyes…

Oh no, I’ve taken away his enthusiasm, help!
What was it that I read the other day in that other parenting article…Building Enthusiasm is Building the Future, right, help them build their enthusiasm.

“Well, don’t worry, you still have a good chance at winning, I’m sure you can win. It’s definitely possible!”
The gleam is back; he’s making his wish list of what apps he’ll download.

Uh oh, but he might not win. And even if he does, he certainly is not downloading whatever app he wants…not every app on there is made for kids!
What was it I read in that other parenting article…What Every Mom Needs to Know About Their Child’s Independence…Right, give independence but keep your authority.

“Y’know, even if you win, you can’t just download every app you want. We’d have to discuss it before you download it.” A look of disappointment crosses my son’s face.

Now I’ve taken away his confidence! That didn’t go right; he needs to feel a sense of control! What was that article I read the other week…right, Don’t Make the Control Mistake, give your child a chance to assert his authority, let him feel like he has some control so he can make better  choices.

“Oh, of course, you can make some choices. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to choose some of the apps.” Phew, I see the relief wash over his face. Now he’s back to the different selling options. If he can sell it for double the price, he can really make a lot of profit…

Oh no, what was it I read in that other parenting article the other week, The Five Rules of How to Prepare Your Child for the Real World. Right, kids need to understand that there’s acceptable and unacceptable; you can’t just name the price or do something outrageous. I better stop him before he gets hit hard with disappointment in the real world. And so I try again.

“Well, you might want to sell it, but who says someone will buy it? And if the price is too high, no one will be interested…”The disappointment is back, I can see it on his face. The enthusiasm is nowhere to be seen.

Grrr, I ruined it again! This not working out like any of those brilliant articles!! Why do those things always work like a charm on paper, and in real life, the conversations just don’t work like that!!

I’m ready to start in again, another recent article coming to mind…

And then I stop. My head is spinning, and I have a feeling my son feels the same.

What am I doing? Who says I need to answer everything?

Forget the millions of articles, just listen. All he wants is for you to listen!

I take a deep breath. I’m determined to get it right.

“So you’d be really happy if you won, right?”

And just like that, his enthusiasm, naivete, excitement and entrepreneurship is back.

He’s talking a mile a minute. I can see his little mind spinning with new ideas, new hopes, new dreams.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

I almost ruined it.

He’ll learn. He’ll learn disappointment and achievement. He’ll learn winning and losing.

And sometimes I know it’ll be painful for me to witness, but I will do the one thing those many articles forget to emphasize.

I will listen.

Keep my mouth closed, and just listen.

Truthfully, that’s the best thing a mom can give.