My girls are pretty young. They are 7 and 4, and they love to dance. They are so different though. My older daughter wanted to start dance class when she was 4, so she did. She LOVES ballet. She is disciplined. She has perfect posture. She practices for hours without anyone suggesting it... My 4 yr old is not as disciplined, although she is very creative and loves to dance. She is fascinated by ballet, but she is a little young and not coordinated enough to pull of the moves her older sister does...
The self discipline is amazing. My 7 yr old will go to dance class and dance the whole time, diligently practicing, perfecting, working hard. She gets annoyed with the other little girls who tend to fool around and not take it seriously. She comes home and works hard to perfect her dancing.
It struck me one day. Perhaps she takes it all too seriously. When dance class was over, she hobbled out of the room. She had pulled a muscle and was clearly in pain. Upon further questioning, she told me she hadn't said anything to the teacher about it. She didn't want to sit on the side. She just danced the rest of the class, ignoring the pain. But when class was over, she succumbed, and she could barely walk home - I ended up putting her in the stroller I had brought along in case my 4 yr old was too tired to walk.
Where does this obsession come from? I'm not so sure it is healthy. I was really taken aback that she hadn't stopped dancing when she got hurt... and it happened again a couple of weeks later. Perhaps I need to discuss this with her dance instructor? (But, if she doesn't say anything, how will the teacher know if she's in pain?)
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Accidental Siren
When you live in Israel, whether you like it or not, you will become familiar with the unmistakable wail of an air-raid siren. Some places (in the South, right now) regularly have air-raid sirens due to the very real missile attacks from Gaza. Those of us in the North only know these sirens from the occasional Pikud HaOref drill.
Until today. I was in my kitchen, trying desperately to pull together lunch in our very poorly stocked kitchen this week before Pesach. (Some people call it the "pre-Pesach famine" and I loved that name so much, I may just have to appropriate it!) This was after we had a close encounter with a bee. My 4 yr old had spent her morning crying, snuggling, and finally sleeping a bit. Then she woke up hungry and in need of the bathroom.
My kids were in various places around the house - one at the table, one on his computer, one playing with toys, and one on the toilet...
Suddenly, we heard the unmistakable wail of an air raid siren.
I hadn't heard of any drill going on today (they do have those, as they regularly test the siren system to be sure it is working). My heart stopped for a second. Then very calmly, I said, "Everyone run down to the miklat (bomb shelter)." Three children went. My 4 yr old calls out, "But Eema, I'm on the toilet!". I ran into the bathroom and said, "It's ok, let's just go down to the miklat." "But", she says, "I just made poopy!" Ok. Quickly, I grabbed a wipe and cleaned her up. Scooped her and the package of wipes from the bathroom, and we joined the other kids in the miklat, all before the siren had stopped its wailing.
At this point, I was pretty sure that there had been some mistake. We didn't hear any sirens or booms, although from the safety of our miklat, I'm not 100% sure what we would hear from outside. I told the kids we should stay put for a few minutes and then we'll assume it's all clear and go back to eating lunch. My 4 yr old (who had been cold, as she was only a little bit dressed, having shed most of her clothing in the bathroom, so she was now wearing my sweater and her tights...) starting singing "Eliyahu HaNavi" - one of her favorite songs to sing on Motsaei Shabbat. So we joined her, I figured it must be calming for her, and we could all follow her cue.
When we were done, we ventured out. I had a list in my head of all the things we need to stock the miklat with (my 7 yr old asked if we had any water or food in there, 9 yr old wanted to know what to do if we were in there and we needed the toilet, my 13 yr old and I had been discussing flashlights and a battery-powered radio...). And we went back upstairs and ate lunch, grateful for the news that it had merely been a system error - an accidental siren.
Until today. I was in my kitchen, trying desperately to pull together lunch in our very poorly stocked kitchen this week before Pesach. (Some people call it the "pre-Pesach famine" and I loved that name so much, I may just have to appropriate it!) This was after we had a close encounter with a bee. My 4 yr old had spent her morning crying, snuggling, and finally sleeping a bit. Then she woke up hungry and in need of the bathroom.
My kids were in various places around the house - one at the table, one on his computer, one playing with toys, and one on the toilet...
Suddenly, we heard the unmistakable wail of an air raid siren.
I hadn't heard of any drill going on today (they do have those, as they regularly test the siren system to be sure it is working). My heart stopped for a second. Then very calmly, I said, "Everyone run down to the miklat (bomb shelter)." Three children went. My 4 yr old calls out, "But Eema, I'm on the toilet!". I ran into the bathroom and said, "It's ok, let's just go down to the miklat." "But", she says, "I just made poopy!" Ok. Quickly, I grabbed a wipe and cleaned her up. Scooped her and the package of wipes from the bathroom, and we joined the other kids in the miklat, all before the siren had stopped its wailing.
At this point, I was pretty sure that there had been some mistake. We didn't hear any sirens or booms, although from the safety of our miklat, I'm not 100% sure what we would hear from outside. I told the kids we should stay put for a few minutes and then we'll assume it's all clear and go back to eating lunch. My 4 yr old (who had been cold, as she was only a little bit dressed, having shed most of her clothing in the bathroom, so she was now wearing my sweater and her tights...) starting singing "Eliyahu HaNavi" - one of her favorite songs to sing on Motsaei Shabbat. So we joined her, I figured it must be calming for her, and we could all follow her cue.
When we were done, we ventured out. I had a list in my head of all the things we need to stock the miklat with (my 7 yr old asked if we had any water or food in there, 9 yr old wanted to know what to do if we were in there and we needed the toilet, my 13 yr old and I had been discussing flashlights and a battery-powered radio...). And we went back upstairs and ate lunch, grateful for the news that it had merely been a system error - an accidental siren.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
More musings on family
I have been mulling over the theme of family and belonging lately, and I started writing about it last week.
There are so many ways to define family. Most of us think of family as our closest relatives - spouse, children, parents, siblings. Then, there are some families who are very much enmeshed with a larger circle of relatives - aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. Some, and I have been lucky enough at times to enjoy this, even embrace second cousins and beyond. I have second cousins and second cousins once removed dotting this country up and down. MOST are in the Jerusalem area, but some are even here in the North. I have first cousins here in the North too. All of this is great. Sometimes we'll be out somewhere and bump into one of those 100 or so cousins (first or second, no matter), and then the country feels like one big family to me.
Other days, we feel like we're all alone. And that's where the other "family" comes in. Those people whom you adopt as your family. We have a small group of homeschooling families, from all around, 1/2 an hour or so in every direction, who get together regularly. In a way, we have become family.
How can I say this? No, it's not that I take the definition of family lightly. But let me explain. When I first made Aliyah (yes, I've done this twice), I really really wanted my sister to do so with me. She didn't. (This was about 20 yrs ago.) So, I went to university here, and made friends with the other olim (there were quite a few, even 20 yrs ago), and we all took care of each other, like family. We didn't have a "home" to go to like our Sabra counterparts, when we were sick, or on vacation, or just to rest on Shabbat. So we made our own little homes, and carved out our own little groups who acted as family.
So when one of our homeschooling friends told us she was pregnant, and worried about feeling all alone right after the birth, we all decided to pitch in. Some people live really close to her, and have been able to help out with her older kids. Some of us cooked up a storm and are storing food in our freezers for her, which will be delivered later in the week... We all call, and sent gifts, and we're all trying to fill in for her absent family. I truly hope that she, and other olim, no longer have to feel alone. We can all support each other, even just emotionally...
There are so many ways to define family. Most of us think of family as our closest relatives - spouse, children, parents, siblings. Then, there are some families who are very much enmeshed with a larger circle of relatives - aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. Some, and I have been lucky enough at times to enjoy this, even embrace second cousins and beyond. I have second cousins and second cousins once removed dotting this country up and down. MOST are in the Jerusalem area, but some are even here in the North. I have first cousins here in the North too. All of this is great. Sometimes we'll be out somewhere and bump into one of those 100 or so cousins (first or second, no matter), and then the country feels like one big family to me.
Other days, we feel like we're all alone. And that's where the other "family" comes in. Those people whom you adopt as your family. We have a small group of homeschooling families, from all around, 1/2 an hour or so in every direction, who get together regularly. In a way, we have become family.
How can I say this? No, it's not that I take the definition of family lightly. But let me explain. When I first made Aliyah (yes, I've done this twice), I really really wanted my sister to do so with me. She didn't. (This was about 20 yrs ago.) So, I went to university here, and made friends with the other olim (there were quite a few, even 20 yrs ago), and we all took care of each other, like family. We didn't have a "home" to go to like our Sabra counterparts, when we were sick, or on vacation, or just to rest on Shabbat. So we made our own little homes, and carved out our own little groups who acted as family.
So when one of our homeschooling friends told us she was pregnant, and worried about feeling all alone right after the birth, we all decided to pitch in. Some people live really close to her, and have been able to help out with her older kids. Some of us cooked up a storm and are storing food in our freezers for her, which will be delivered later in the week... We all call, and sent gifts, and we're all trying to fill in for her absent family. I truly hope that she, and other olim, no longer have to feel alone. We can all support each other, even just emotionally...
Friday, March 9, 2012
Family and Belonging
My cousins finally made it here for a visit! To be honest, it is not their fault that it took so long. I have been delaying the invitation, hoping for the day that my house is guest worthy and I'm not too tired to make guest worthy food. My cousins and I grew up 6000 miles apart, and I wanted to be sure they enjoy coming to my house!
Making aliyah does strange things, like taking these cousins who are your blood relatives but you hardly ever got to know in the earlier years of your life, and puts them within driving distance of your new home (of course, the flip side of that is that many other relatives are now 6000 miles away. But while we were in the States, we spent many years living between 900 and 1500 miles from our families. So although 6000 miles is further, but I think I have seen my younger sister MORE often since making aliyah than I did in the 3+ yrs prior to that. And she lives in the NY area. Go figure.).
So, Purim day, we tried to spiff up our house, the weather was gorgeous, our Rakafot are in bloom, cascading down the rocky area in front of our house, our lemon tree is still full with lemons (not sure we will manage to use them all), and I think I made guest-worthy food (to find out more about THAT, you'll have to check out my other blog here, although I haven't written up our Purim menu yet)!
And 2 of my cousins with various delegations from their families, came to visit! How amazing to have relatives who live within 1/2 an hour of my home. Now that we are all grown up, we can get to know each other in a way that is different if we had been cousins who played together throughout our childhood. Most of our conversations are in Hebrew (my second language, their first), although from time to time they try out their English on us. Usually they are forgiving of my mistakes...
This visit really made our family's day. It's good to feel like we belong.
Making aliyah does strange things, like taking these cousins who are your blood relatives but you hardly ever got to know in the earlier years of your life, and puts them within driving distance of your new home (of course, the flip side of that is that many other relatives are now 6000 miles away. But while we were in the States, we spent many years living between 900 and 1500 miles from our families. So although 6000 miles is further, but I think I have seen my younger sister MORE often since making aliyah than I did in the 3+ yrs prior to that. And she lives in the NY area. Go figure.).
So, Purim day, we tried to spiff up our house, the weather was gorgeous, our Rakafot are in bloom, cascading down the rocky area in front of our house, our lemon tree is still full with lemons (not sure we will manage to use them all), and I think I made guest-worthy food (to find out more about THAT, you'll have to check out my other blog here, although I haven't written up our Purim menu yet)!
And 2 of my cousins with various delegations from their families, came to visit! How amazing to have relatives who live within 1/2 an hour of my home. Now that we are all grown up, we can get to know each other in a way that is different if we had been cousins who played together throughout our childhood. Most of our conversations are in Hebrew (my second language, their first), although from time to time they try out their English on us. Usually they are forgiving of my mistakes...
This visit really made our family's day. It's good to feel like we belong.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Moving, Spiritual Reflections, and Life in a Quiet Town
We have been living in Northern Israel for a year and a half at this point. It has been a period of ups and downs, adjustments, laughter, loving, discouragement, feeling too hot, feeling too cold, mundane living and spiritual uplifting. It has been quite the ride, and I know it is STILL just the beginning of the ride.
We used to live in Teverya, and about 6 months ago, we picked up and moved to a small town halfway between Afula and Haifa. So much to love about this part of the country, and such a great view! And we have citrus trees...
I love this life. It is so different from our life in Florida. Unbelievably different. While some things were wonderful there, sometimes life just sidetracked us from our goals. Not just Florida, as we also lived in Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Texas, and Georgia. Before that, we lived in Yerushalayim, the holiest of all cities, the only city in the world that fills me with peace and that wonderful feeling of coming home. The only city in the world that as I walk its streets, I feel awed and uplifted, and at the same time I ache, for I know that I will leave and it will not be my home again.
When we lived in America, I went through a transformation of sorts. When we first moved there, we left the holiest place in the world and landed smack in the middle of an upper-middle class town in Connecticut. I felt cut off from my lifeline. I cried. I went through culture shock. And slowly I became acclimated. It took a bit of time, but eventually I started driving and made all sorts of discoveries: no, I couldn't go to the Kotel when I was looking for answers. But I found a Walmart nearby. And then I discovered bargain hunting - consignment shops and thrift stores in bourgeois towns in Connecticut was a little like being in HEAVEN. I discovered that I could live the good life on a really tiny income, as long as I was willing to buy my stuff used. I scoured the Goodwill 25 cent bins for treasures. Those Goodwill wokers in Connecticut never wanted to try to sort out bags of stuff that was donated, so TONS of miscellaneous items got dumped into the 25 cent bins for the poor people to sort through. Well, that was fine with me! And slowly, I changed. I went through a major transformation. I fed my hunger with bargains and thrift shopping... I learned to buy everything reduced. Even my produce - eventually I started shopping the markdown produce at the market! Wow, life became all about the markdown. Instead of the uplifting. It took a while, but eventually, I felt that there was this bit of my heart that was longing to go back to Yerushalayim. A little bit of me saying, give it all up! It doesn't matter what you have. You need to live the life you are destined to live, and you just CANNOT do that in America, shopping, playing (at Disneyworld, sniff!), and living so disconnected from your spiritual home. So far from Yerushalayim...
So why do I live in the North and write about Northern Lights? Because in my heart I long to live in Yerushalayim, yet I know that it is not possible. Not possible for me, to live the life I want to live, in Yerushalayim. I LOVE the quiet solitude of my little town in Emeq Yizrael. It is dark now, and there is silence outside, surrounding our little house in the kind of peace and quiet that never comes in a big city. Perhaps it is false, but I have a sense of security I never really had, living all those years just a stone's throw from the Prime Minister's residence, the President's residence, or the bustling Ben Yehuda pedestrian mall, or the truly bustling, bursting, Middle-Eastern-beyond belief Shuk (Machane Yehuda). (Yup, even then I moved around a lot. I am one who always looks and strives to find something better. To make next time around even better. Whether that was with location, work, friends, roommates... now it is a desire to have the best for my family...)
We love our quiet town. It is rather large as little towns go, nearly 8000 residents. But it doesn't feel large at all. The streets are quiet, many tree-lined. There are no traffic lights (except to get off the highway and into town) and people smile. Sometimes there are scouts or groups of kids who go out into the field (behind our house) and make a bonfire, singing and eating fire-roasted treats late into the night.
We can also get almost everything we'd need right here in town. Nothing more than a 20 minute walk away. (With the exception of x-rays. One of our sons needed that and we had to take him to Afula. But Afula is only about a 25 min. drive. Within many cities you may have to travel longer than that for some service or other... just TRY getting anywhere in Haifa!)
My kids are happy with the open green spaces all around us, though they groan about living downwind from the cows sometimes (me, too!). While I am allergic to the outdoors, I wither away inside when I don't have access to it. I love this life.
Come find out more about living in the North. Give us a call and arrange a visit. You can reach us at 054-45-1878 or 054-454-2631.
We used to live in Teverya, and about 6 months ago, we picked up and moved to a small town halfway between Afula and Haifa. So much to love about this part of the country, and such a great view! And we have citrus trees...
I love this life. It is so different from our life in Florida. Unbelievably different. While some things were wonderful there, sometimes life just sidetracked us from our goals. Not just Florida, as we also lived in Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Texas, and Georgia. Before that, we lived in Yerushalayim, the holiest of all cities, the only city in the world that fills me with peace and that wonderful feeling of coming home. The only city in the world that as I walk its streets, I feel awed and uplifted, and at the same time I ache, for I know that I will leave and it will not be my home again.
When we lived in America, I went through a transformation of sorts. When we first moved there, we left the holiest place in the world and landed smack in the middle of an upper-middle class town in Connecticut. I felt cut off from my lifeline. I cried. I went through culture shock. And slowly I became acclimated. It took a bit of time, but eventually I started driving and made all sorts of discoveries: no, I couldn't go to the Kotel when I was looking for answers. But I found a Walmart nearby. And then I discovered bargain hunting - consignment shops and thrift stores in bourgeois towns in Connecticut was a little like being in HEAVEN. I discovered that I could live the good life on a really tiny income, as long as I was willing to buy my stuff used. I scoured the Goodwill 25 cent bins for treasures. Those Goodwill wokers in Connecticut never wanted to try to sort out bags of stuff that was donated, so TONS of miscellaneous items got dumped into the 25 cent bins for the poor people to sort through. Well, that was fine with me! And slowly, I changed. I went through a major transformation. I fed my hunger with bargains and thrift shopping... I learned to buy everything reduced. Even my produce - eventually I started shopping the markdown produce at the market! Wow, life became all about the markdown. Instead of the uplifting. It took a while, but eventually, I felt that there was this bit of my heart that was longing to go back to Yerushalayim. A little bit of me saying, give it all up! It doesn't matter what you have. You need to live the life you are destined to live, and you just CANNOT do that in America, shopping, playing (at Disneyworld, sniff!), and living so disconnected from your spiritual home. So far from Yerushalayim...
So why do I live in the North and write about Northern Lights? Because in my heart I long to live in Yerushalayim, yet I know that it is not possible. Not possible for me, to live the life I want to live, in Yerushalayim. I LOVE the quiet solitude of my little town in Emeq Yizrael. It is dark now, and there is silence outside, surrounding our little house in the kind of peace and quiet that never comes in a big city. Perhaps it is false, but I have a sense of security I never really had, living all those years just a stone's throw from the Prime Minister's residence, the President's residence, or the bustling Ben Yehuda pedestrian mall, or the truly bustling, bursting, Middle-Eastern-beyond belief Shuk (Machane Yehuda). (Yup, even then I moved around a lot. I am one who always looks and strives to find something better. To make next time around even better. Whether that was with location, work, friends, roommates... now it is a desire to have the best for my family...)
We love our quiet town. It is rather large as little towns go, nearly 8000 residents. But it doesn't feel large at all. The streets are quiet, many tree-lined. There are no traffic lights (except to get off the highway and into town) and people smile. Sometimes there are scouts or groups of kids who go out into the field (behind our house) and make a bonfire, singing and eating fire-roasted treats late into the night.
We can also get almost everything we'd need right here in town. Nothing more than a 20 minute walk away. (With the exception of x-rays. One of our sons needed that and we had to take him to Afula. But Afula is only about a 25 min. drive. Within many cities you may have to travel longer than that for some service or other... just TRY getting anywhere in Haifa!)
My kids are happy with the open green spaces all around us, though they groan about living downwind from the cows sometimes (me, too!). While I am allergic to the outdoors, I wither away inside when I don't have access to it. I love this life.
Come find out more about living in the North. Give us a call and arrange a visit. You can reach us at 054-45-1878 or 054-454-2631.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Northern Lights & Reflections
I have a camera, and sometimes I even remember to take pictures with it.
However, I rarely DO anything with my pictures. I hardly ever upload them to the MyBook I bought so the pictures wouldn't clog up my hard drive. (My 12 yo son has taken it upon himself to do this every so often)
So here is a momentous occasion: I am uploading the picture that inspired the name of this blog. This is the nighttime view from one side of the wraparound mirpeset. Let me know what you think!
However, I rarely DO anything with my pictures. I hardly ever upload them to the MyBook I bought so the pictures wouldn't clog up my hard drive. (My 12 yo son has taken it upon himself to do this every so often)
So here is a momentous occasion: I am uploading the picture that inspired the name of this blog. This is the nighttime view from one side of the wraparound mirpeset. Let me know what you think!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Lights all around
I have absolutely neglected my blog, because life just sometimes gets in the way. We are still living in the gorgeous Northern Israel, and I hung out the laundry tonight on my mirpeset with an amazing breeze (yay! the laundry will dry quickly!), and a gorgeous nighttime view of the city lights, the dark Kinneret, and the lights of the various surrounding cities and towns... absolutely stunning.
It made me stop and think about the way the lights shine, and sometimes you can catch the twinkle of lights in a single house, and sometimes it's all a jumbled big mess of lights. Here in Israel, it's so much more likely to be the lights of each house. And each house is significant. We are all part of the future of the Land, the People, the State - and I'm so grateful and happy that we have been able to come back home.
It made me stop and think about the way the lights shine, and sometimes you can catch the twinkle of lights in a single house, and sometimes it's all a jumbled big mess of lights. Here in Israel, it's so much more likely to be the lights of each house. And each house is significant. We are all part of the future of the Land, the People, the State - and I'm so grateful and happy that we have been able to come back home.
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