Parenting: A Confession

Here it is, folks: I have no parenting philosophy.

Before we had kids, I never really stopped to consider what "parenting" meant. We had some vague notions about not getting much sleep, telling little people to "Brush your teeth!" and going on family vacations. Mostly the immediate pre-baby time was spent on stuff; namely, staring in a bewildered manner at the aisles and aisles of stuff at Buy Buy Baby, which ended with me running out of the store in tears and Donny standing there helplessly, holding the list of Stuff You Must Have Lest Your Child End Up a Tattooed Juvenile Delinquent Who Never Brushes His Teeth, wondering, for the love of all that is covered in spit up, what the hell are "oh-nay-sies." (Onesies, is the answer. Have I blogged about this story before? It seems vaguely familiar, but I couldn't remember and anyway, you've gotten this far, might as well finish.)

And then our children came, one by one, like the ants, and we began the whole process of child-rearing, sticking close to our non-philosophy philosophy. Which meant that we basically fumbled through, hoping for the best and keeping a sharp eye out for tattoos. I never even read a real parenting book, except for the "What to Expect" variety, which tells you things like, "This month your child will learn to clap!" and if your child learned to clap last month, you feel smug, and if the month passes, clap-free, you panic and break into hysterics, envisioning heartbreaking scenes of your child sitting at their child's Siddur Party, banging pathetically on a tambourine while all the other parents are madly applauding.

Oh, also, I've read the chapters of my own book on parenting, "Leave me Alone So I Can Read the People Magazines from Three Months Ago. Or the Back of a Cereal Box. Please." (My expectations have gotten lower.) 

Anyway, I just figured this was how all parents raised their children. But as I have met more and more parents, it seems that I am in the minority. Lots of parents have parenting philosophies, which include very definite ideas of how they do or do not want to raise their children. They even read books about it. And have discussions. And post things on forums. And sound generally intelligent and non-fumbly.

So my point here is: Am I alone? Do you have a Philosophy or are you a Wing-It-er? Should I put more thought into this whole parenting thing other than idly wondering how much longer it is till bedtime? Tell me your thoughts. Just to try to keep them to cereal-box-length. 

War Stuff

Well.

Here we are again, at war. Though it's not a war. It's an "operation." But we are "at operation" does not have the same ring.

My Tired friend was lamenting how exhausting it is to constantly explain the situation (via, FB, Twitter, etc) to the masses. Especially the masses that think like this lovely CNN newscaster. See her at her objective journalistic finest during an interview with Mark Regev, the spokesman for the Prime Minister! (PS: I am employing the use of sarcasm when I say "lovely," "objective," "journalistic" and "finest.")

But Yaakov has it all figured out, Tired. So you can turn to him as your expert commentator during these troubled times.

Me: Rocket attacks from Gaza, Israel fighting back, etc etc.

Ariella: Isn't Gaza part of Israel??

Ahem.

Ariella, continued: Why are they doing that?

Yaakov, in his most exasperated, I-can't-BELIEVE-I-have-to-explain-this-to-you way: It's like in Power Rangers! They are the BAD GUYS. And since [Yaakov-speak for "except"] they are people, not monsters.

So.

May God give strength to the Good Guys and protect us from the Bad Guys. Shabbat shalom.

Actual Thing That Happened To Me

So we've discussed my memory problems before. At least, I think we have.

Here's a new story for the annals:

Scene: I am in the kitchen, slicing apples for Yaakov's lunch.

[Open drawer.] Hmmm, no plastic sandwich bags left. Lemme go to the cabinet in the laundry room to get another box.

[Walk to laundry room. As I open cabinet, I see the stuff sitting in the washer.]

Oh, whoops, I never switched this laundry before. I'll put it in the dryer now.

[Switch laundry. Turn to leave laundry room.]

[Annoyed.] Geeze, who left this cabinet door open! I could have hurt myself!

[Back in kitchen, faced with Yaakov's apples.]

Hmmm, no plastic sandwich bags left. Lemme go to the cabinet in the laundry - OHHH!!! [Plastic bags. Door left open. It allll comes together. Is it too late for another cup of coffee?]

Ariella, Meet Email

But first, a Language lesson:

Ariella: Did you ever play wallball?

Me: Sure. 

Ariella: We play it during hafsakah.

Me: [curious] How do you say "wallball" in Hebrew?

Ariella: Woohl-boohl

**********************************************************

So I got Ariella her own email address. She was bugging me to, and because it didn't involve candy or me getting into a car, I said yes. 

This has led to some interesting and surprising conversation. Interesting, 'cuz you know, I don't really understand the Internets myself, so it makes it hard to explain to someone else. Me, I'm still trying to figure out magnets. And surprising, because she is so tech-savvy in other ways. (See her Powerpoint presentation for Zaidy's birthday. 30 slides, transitions, pictures, sounds, you name it.)

We had previously discussed the difference between closing the browser vs. closing a tab. (OMG! You got rid of everything I was working on!!!!) We also discussed the importance of using different browsers for email, so we won't be constantly logging each other out.

Other questions about the mythical, wondrous Land of the 'Net:

1. "Now that I have email, will I also have tabs?" (Email is on a tab. It does not come with them.)

2. "I went to Webtop [her class website] and my email disappeared!" (You need to open up a new tab if you want to be on two websites at once.)

3. [I taught her how to ar-chive - as she calls it - her emails. For example, she could archive her introductory emails from Google, and then if she wants to find them later, just type in "google" in the search box.]

"Mommy, I typed in 'google' but I can't find that email from Bubby!" (Cue discussion about search terms.)

4. And my favorite: "When will I get spohm?" (Rhymes with bomb)

(Fret not, my dear, the Hon. Mr. Thembelani T. Nxes, from the South African Ministry of Works and Housing, is hurtling through cyberspace to an inbox near you.)

A Story About Eggs

So yesterday I did my weekly food shopping.

[Pause for a nap. Just thinking about it makes me tired.]

I was by myself. Which is a shame, because the big kids were getting to be terrific shopping helpers. In addition to loading the belt while I bag, they can get the cheese at the cheese counter. But their schedules this year did not leave an opening for food shopping, unless I go after 4:00 and take the Small Tornado with me. And I really didn't want to play his two favorite games: "Eat Your Way Through the Store" followed by "I've Had Enough of This Cart Hold Me" (the second of which always occurs while I'm frantically bagging.)

Anyway, I did all the work myself, and was bumping my cart through the parking lot when, SPLAT, my eggs fell. And, as anyone whose eggs have gone SPLAT in the parking lot will tell you, the eggs will break. I was feeling very annoyed and figured I would just dump the eggs in the garbage and get more a different time.

But a helpful man was standing near the garbage and suggested I go back. "I think they will exchange them for you," he said. I was thinking probably not, since after all it was my fault they dropped, and it would be a great opportunity for them to say that beloved Israeli catchphrase, "Zeh lo kashur elay."

However, it felt churlish to then ignore this nice man and dump my eggs anyway, right in front of him. But, I had a cartful of groceries. So in one hand I held the carton of eggs, which at this point had started to gently drip, and with the other pushed the cart to my car. I unloaded the bags into my car, placed my dripping egg carton in my now-empty cart and headed back into the store.

I waited at the main desk. I put my eggs on the counter and explained my situation. Can I exchange the eggs? (Drip, drip, drip). The Man nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know. See that lady next to the front door? Go ask her." Back into the shopping cart. We wheeled over to the lady. Can I exchange my eggs? She thought for a moment. Yes, she decided. You can exchange your eggs. Get a new carton and then put the broken eggs (drip, drip) onto the counter at the main desk.

So my dripping eggs and I went careening through the store to the egg section, which of course is on the complete opposite end. I got a new carton and cradled it gently, like I was holding something fragile. Such as eggs. We re-careened back to the main desk (drip, drip) and left the broken eggs on the counter. For what purpose? I'm not sure.

After clearing nearly all the eggs-tacles (obstacles? An attempt at an egg pun? Did it not work?), there was only one left: Receipt-Stamping Lady. And naturally, my receipt was in the car, with my now-melting groceries. You could have probably made a decent hafuch with the milk at this point. She looked at me, pushing a cart that was completely empty save for a single carton of eggs.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Kabbalah?" she inquired. I, once again, explained my situation. Luckily she let me go.

And that is how Rami Levy managed to do the right thing in the most complicated way possible.

Drip, drip, drip.

In Which I Score a Point. Just One. But Still.

Problem #1: Nadav does not want to put on pajamas. Pajamas mean sleep, and sleep is bad. Or, in the Heblish that Nadav has perfected, "NOOO lishon!!!"

Problem #2: Nadav does not want to get dressed in the morning. Clothing means going to gan, and leaving Meema, and we can't do that! Poor Meema! What will she do all day without her little helper?? How will she get anything done without someone clinging to her hip?

Solution: Instead of having two battles, I have eliminated them completely with my Get Dressed To Go To Sleep method (patent pending). At night, we put on fresh clothes of Nadav's choosing. They even remain relatively clean when it's time to go to gan in the morning. Also, he sleeps in his shoes, so he is ready to go, go, go. All he needs is a quick diaper change and we're outta there! Score one point for Meema!

Future Problem #1: As you may recall from a few sentences ago, Nadav sleeps in his shoes. This is okay now, during sandal weather (Choref Outlook: Continued Warm and Sunny), because at least some air circulates. Although, pieces of his sandals are constantly flaking off and sticking to his feet. Also, his feet stink. Bad. But okay. The big Future Problem is going to be winter. One cannot wear socks and thick leather shoes 24/7. One (Nadav) will certainly want to, but one (me) cannot let that happen. My standards are pretty low, but even I draw the line at wearing winter shoes straight through from November-March.

No solution yet, other than poking some air holes into his winter shoes.

In other news...

For all those following my RealIsraeli Meter, there have been a number of significant developments in recent weeks that are making my Israeliness go off the charts, leading me to run through the streets shouting "Oyoyoyoy TZION! TZION" or maybe just "SABABA!"

1. My personal Hebrew email checker (Ariella) complimented me on my "עברית עשירה" in one of my emails. Okay, I know, it's even more Israeli if you don't need a personal Hebrew email checker. But still. (In case you were wondering, it was my correct usage of the word "עקב" that elicited the compliment.)

2. I am a member of a first grade Facebook group. A member posted a question about an email that had been sent out and I - I! - was the veteran olah who went ahead and explained what it said! I think I even got it right! It makes sense that the kids need to come to school on Friday with 31 live chickens, right?

3. I bought Yaakov some jeans today and thought, "Good, now he has Shabbat clothes."

Scary Things Kids Say

Striking fear into the hearts of mothers everywhere....

1. "....so I stood on a chair to reach the bowls, but it wasn't high enough, so I put a stepstool on top of the chair..."

2. "The teacher said that instead of a test, we're going to do a project on the parsha. With a partner."

3. "B-R-R-R-R-I-I-I-I-N-N-N-G-G-G" [Followed by child's gan/school on caller ID]

4. "Oh, I need to bring 30 lollipops for our party in school. It's tomorrow."

5. [Silence]