Dancing with the stars

I should probably take the time to review my blog now and again.  I had completely forgotten last year when the month of Adar started we were introduced to the "Mishe Nichnas Adar" singing and dancing.  Last night just after we had finished dessert and were about to start a traditional Shabbat song we heard a knock at the door.  It doesn't happen all the time but it's not uncommon for a neighbor or friend to knock on our door on Shabbat with a medical problem.  Ariella usually greets them with "my mom is a doctor for emergencies so she can only help you if you're about to die."  Love to see her as a triage nurse one day.  But I digress. 

I was half expecting someone with a sore throat or stomach ache when the door opened and in came a bunch of kids in costume, singing and dancing.  Adar is here and the build up to Purim in this country is intense.  Anyway, it's sort of customary to give each kid a little treat but I was caught off guard.  Really, if you live here and especially if you have kids you always have to have some type treat in your cabinet because life here is always celebrating something or preparing to celebrate something.  The 5 days during the school year where they are not engaged in either of those must be the time where they learn math.  I still haven't figured it out. 

Anyway, my kids joined the group and returned an hour later with sandwich bags full of marshmallows and wafers and lots of great fun.  The Mishe dancing goes on all week so tomorrow I will head to the store so that I have something to hand out and an extra for my cabinet.

Today we were able to see Mars and Venus with our naked eyes.  How cool that no matter where in the world you are when you are reading this blog, we were all able to see that.

Rat race

One of the dreams I have for our family is to eventually own our own home in Israel.  (A dream that would have been much easier if the selling market of our old Kansas house had not, unfortunately been below the buying market from a few years earlier.  But that's okay, you take your opportunities and make worthwhile trade-offs).  I don't fantasize about a yard or covered parking because unless we set up a very successful crowdfunding campaign, we will be lucky to buy our current apartment which has neither.  Real estate in Israel is so expensive.  It's like the entire country is San Francisco or Manhattan.  The Upper East Side of Manhattan.  It's a funny thing if you stop and think about it.  Surrounded by hostile neighbors, held responsible for most of the world's problems, can't keep a government together, and yet buying a home is so expensive.  I probably should have paid more attention in my economics classes (hey Mala!) but I don't get it.  Anyway, I do dream of a place of our own where we can decide what we want to do and not worry about having to move again, but sometimes it's good to be a renter.

And when, you might find yourself asking, is it good to be a renter?  When your kids beg for a dog.  Now don't get me wrong.  I don't have anything against dogs.  I grew up with the world's loveliest Golden Retriever--Ruby Tuesday.  But some days it seems like our little human family of 5 has a very full plate, and if we had one more thing to take care of, Oy! (That's me justifying the blog title).  So I've kind of enjoyed our landlord's policy of no pets.  But darn if my wily kids didn't grab the landlord in person during a rare appearance, and wear the man down.  Finally, he agreed to allow caged pets.  Enter Kitty and Oreo.  The newest non-human members of our family.  Once we got the green light from our landlord, Michael started researching our pet options and his investigation led him to the conclusion that rats make amazing pets.  Yes Rats.  I actually became convinced.  They're so intelligent and friendly.  You can train them, you can love them.  And they will love you back. And they will use a litter box and come when called.

Once we were all in agreement that rats would make great pets (I say rats in the plural because like Lay's potato chips, you can't have just one--they get depressed and die without a companion), we got a little stuck in the practicalities.  I have no basis for comparison as I never tried to purchase a rat in the US, but here in Israel we couldn't find a pet store that sold rats.  When we called to inquire, they always agreed that rats do make excellent pets but no they didn't know where we could buy one.  How about a nice hamster?  My detective work led us to an animal menagerie outside of Rehovot that did in fact sell rats.  Mostly to people with pet snakes, but no matter.  We found them.

In retrospect, my interest may have been a touch more theoretical, which is probably why the actual going to get the rats happened during my last work trip.  Yes friends, while there was an ocean to separate us, my family bought pet rats.   To get to this animal menagerie you have to drive down a very long dirt road (I have since returned there to buy rat food!) and I mean a loooooong dirt road.  Two years of being here make it so normal to have to go off paved roads to find what you're looking for.  And if people are doing 3-point turns or  U-turns on that road--again, not a big deal.   But some dirt roads are longer, and more potentially frightening to someone who hopes their car will retain some value, than others.

My Bubbie's response when she heard we got pet rats:  "Most of the world is paying someone to rid their home of rats and you guys are paying to give them a home!?!?!?!"    Ha!  If she only knew.  Our rats have a hammock--homemade mazes, specialized food and a lot of love from 3 kids--who somehow can't be found when it's time to clean the cage.

Long time no see

Well it's certainly been some time.  It's not that I haven't thought about blogging, because I certainly have.  And frankly the immigrant experience is so ripe with material that nary a day goes by that I couldn't write something.  But, since my last post, my father died.  And while I know I was incredibly lucky to have a dad like mine,  the loss is so complete.  Of course I know that the natural end of the life cycle is death but the utter blackness that is the realization that you will never, not even once, not even a chance, not ever see the person again is so painful.  Though this is the oysandjoys blog (thanks again to my super creative friend Ilene for the title) I think I should focus more on the oys than the joys.   In that light, I offer  a few thoughts about my dad that are happy, especially since he wanted us to remember the good times and remember him as he was throughout his life, not as the cancer left him at the end.

I remember once on a car trip he engaged us for the better part of an hour with an incredible tale about a man he knew who was a spy.  By the end of the story we were begging and pleading with him to tell us who this amazing man was.  His reply.  "His name was Bond.  James Bond," followed by his ever infectious laugh.  My dad was the same person who told me at 8 years old that no one was really happy.  Happiness, he explained, was a Hollywood idea.  Those two stories might begin to illustrate a father who was always engaged with us, always interested in our lives and our friend's lives and in life itself.  I miss you dad.

Anyway, where to even begin?  Last summer we visited family in the US, and at some point I should probably write about the experience as seen through the eyes of my children, who probably didn't even remember the land that they missed and then re-experienced again as foreigners.  They met their cousin, Golda, for the first time and Ariella attached the Israeli "oush" so she became Goldoush.  They loved being with family and seeing old friends but I was relieved to see them eager to get on the flight home.  Home to Israel.  On the flight, N asked a few passengers if they were considering Aliyah. 
"You should do it," he told them.   "It's rough, but it's worth it!"

This morning we went to the Mesibat Siddur for all of the first graders at Ariella's school.  Last year I was so impressed with the show the Kindergarten class put on, but since the Kindergartens in Israel are free standing, hers was just a class of 35.   The entire first grade performs together so this was over 100 children.  It was like a Broadway show.  Costume changes, sets and lots of singing and dancing.  Think more big choral numbers rather than solo parts.  There was one sort of modern dance routine set to the theme song of Mission Impossible which I'll confess I might not be artistically sophisticated enough to have appreciated, but otherwise it was amazing!  At the end of the show, the Chief Rabbi of Israel came and shook the hand of each child.  I didn't even travel to Israel until I was 17 years old, but my 6 year old daughter has already met the Chief Rabbi. 

Watching A in first grade has really been interesting.  The other two are fluent in Hebrew but have not yet reached "academic fluency," (crazy as it seems--this is a 5-7 year process!) but A is truly bilingual.  It's amazing to see her read and write in both languages and actually understand what she's reading.  My hope had been to keep up with the first grade curriculum, but alas they have passed me.  My Hebrew has definitely improved, though.  I have come to realize that when we moved to Israel and I used to tell people that my Hebrew was bad, I was quite mistaken.  My Hebrew was essentially non-existent.  Now, after 2.5 years my Hebrew is bad.  What an improvement!  Even one of the kids' teachers noted a major difference in my ability to communicate.  In spite of my efforts, there still remains such a major gap.  Life without a firm grasp of the language is like living in a semi-constant state of confusion.  I might not be using salt in the dishwasher or cleaning the toilets with oven cleaner any more but I still have a long way to go. 

On that front, I have a new Hebrew conversation partner.  The idea is that she will improve her English and I will improve my Hebrew.  She grew up on a Kibbutz in the 80's, so she was one of those kids who grew up in a "kids' area" and not at home with her parents.  Fascinating. 

Anyway, so much more to write about.  Including elections, house pets, school events.  But for now just getting back to blogging.

As I walk out the door. . .

Heading back to the U.S. for a work marathon and visiting family.  I jumped through the observation period "hoop" at the hospital and at some point I will have to blog about the experience but for now I will simply have to sum up our year in Modiin as amazing.  Our courtyard of dreams, the flowers and vibrant colors everywhere you go, our new community and friends, Lag Ba'Omer (pyromaniac's delight), the Shavuot experience here (chill and meaningful), the countless playdates and sleepovers, frankly just the straight out greatness that the city has to offer, we definitely feel that we have landed in a good spot in our new home.  (Wait, I forgot to mention the awesome Judo competition today.)  I will try to keep in touch this summer.  Shalom chaverim.

Let it go

I'm back in Israel.  I can't say the same for all of my belongings.  Apparently in our new brave world peanut butter has become a dangerous item (and I don't mean because it is a choking hazard).  Or it is if you have more than 4.2 ounces of it in your carry-on.  Of course you can get peanut butter in Israel but it is more expensive so I was bringing some back.  I was stopped at security and they informed me that I was carrying a hazardous item and needed to surrender it.  I would have offered to eat the amount necessary to get down to 4.2 ounces but I didn't think that would end well.  (I have since learned that it wouldn't have helped because the container itself was greater than 4.2 ounces)  The security agent said I could check it but as it's currently $100 to check a second bag I felt that rather defeated the purpose.  Faced with this situation, the following dialogue ensued:

Me:  "Can I give it to one of the workers?"
Security Person: "No.  You have to surrender it, Ma'am."
Me: "Can you donate it to a food pantry, or is there some such program to salvage things that can't make it onto the planes?
Security Person: "No. You have to surrender it, Ma'am.  Do you surrender it?"
Me (as I see/hear the line getting bigger behind me): "Okay, I guess I have to."
Security Person (louder, half-withdrawing the baton from her belt):  "Ma'am, do you surrender the peanut butter?"

What could I do?  I surrendered.  Ironically, at the gate (which in the KC airport is steps away from security) they asked if I would gate check my bag to save space but when I asked if I could go retrieve the peanut butter I was informed that once surrendered, it can not be allowed on the flight.  Even though the surrender was less than 120 seconds before.   Yes, I would describe what I felt as frustration.  But what can you do?  You can't show your frustration to the airport staff.  You have to conceal, don't feel.  Just let it go.

I shudder even now to think of the time when flight attendants used to give us bags of peanuts during the actual flight.  To think what might have happened if we had all gotten together and smashed those peanuts up.  OK, actually I don't know what would have happened and even though I spent a good part of the next 15 hours of travel trying to figure it out I'm afraid that if I were entered into some kind of perverse contest on how to threaten an airplane with 5 ounces of peanut butter, I would never be able to claim the prize.  

I returned for the end of Yom Hazikaron and the start of Yom Haatzmaut.  Unfortunately, jet lag prevented us from attending some parties but we did participate in our local park (courtyard families) ceremony.  Again, jet lag prevented me from understanding much of it but when we sang Hatikvah and raised our flag it was such a joyous feeling.  A and her friend came running down the hill, "Hatikvah, this is my favorite."  Yom Haatzmaut is not really a vegetarian's holiday because it is BBQ city.  We joined friends and had a really nice afternoon.  N made brownies to bring along but used the microwave as a timer which blew out the microwave.  We joked that they were the most expensive brownies ever, but fortunately by the time we returned home the microwave was working again. 

A and I went through a massive pile of unmatched socks and were successful in making at least 20 matches but if you are missing any socks they have likely migrated to our house.  If you happen to live overseas, don't ask me how they hopped the flight----security is pretty tight these days.

Full disclosure:  The baton reference was just literary license.  I thought it would be more dramatic than a taser.  Also, "conceal, don't feel," and "let it go," are references to the movie Frozen.

How do you say Lego in Hebrew?

A couple of days ago N and M were on a morning walk when N spotted an extremely colorful butterfly fluttering in a bush.  "Abba," he cried out "look at that amazing butterfly."  And just as Michael looked over a bird swooped in.  "Seriously?!"  N asked.  "Even butterflies have it rough?"

And so it seems, with news of shootings at the Jewish Community Center and the Jewish nursing home in my hometown of Kansas City, and the father of a 3rd grader in N's school shot dead by Palestinian terrorists on his way to Passover Seder.

This particular butterfly made a narrow escape.  "I guess that's why they flutter in different directions--it's a defense mechanism," N suggested.  And so it seems.

With all the fluttering here I've certainly fallen behind on my blogging.  So a 30-second catch up.   Passover.  We cleaned, we ate, we hiked.  Seriously, we had a fantastic time.  The kids get the week before Passover off so there are all sorts of attempts at activity to keep them entertained.  L got to participate in a netball camp (I had never heard of the sport but her Australian buddies were quite familiar), A had chicken pox so stayed home and N went on a Bnai Akiva trip to the Kinneret.  A's entire Kindergarten class had been vaccinated but 1/3 of them came down with chicken pox.  Fortunately, because of the vaccine she had an extremely mild case.

We celebrated our Passover seder with friends of a very creative bend.  There were costumes and characters, good food and interesting insights.  Walking home, N told me that he wouldn't compare it to being with his grandparents or the D family (shout out to Hannah--my kids wanted to go for pizza with you after chag was over!) but that he finally felt like we were home.  A bit of my heart might have actually melted in that moment.  There might be those who move here and miss the second seder or the extra days of Yom Tov (Sabbath-like part of the week long holiday) but I'm not one of them!

This year we visited the city of Beer Sheva  couple of times.  Once for a festival with a large group of Olim and once on our own to visit the new science museum for kids.   Beer Sheva is about an hour away so it of course took our family two hours and a stop to get there (for our gang, more than 15 minute drive = road trip).  The museum was amazing.  Our kids had a blast.  One of the guides told me that I should really take A to the "Lego exhibit" as it was only there for a short time.  When we got to the exhibit it turned out to be a tent (outdoors) with a bunch of Lego inside that kids could play with.  Reminded me a bit too much of my living room so we skipped that one.   We also toured the Ayalon Institute, the site of an underground factory where Jews secretly manufactured bullets that were used to secure Israel's independence. If you are planning a trip to Israel, I would definitely put it on your list.

We even spent one day at the beach, though it is definitely early in the season.  The tides were pretty strong, so we mostly hung out on the closer side of a sand bar.  What we at first thought might be a plastic bag turned out to be jellyfish.  The kids asked a man standing there (in Hebrew) if the jellyfish could still sting, as it no longer appeared to be alive.  He answered in English and told them he was only visiting from Canada.  They spoke a few minutes (in English) and when he asked them where they were from, they replied "Modiin."

Lital came up with an intra-family mail system.  She created a mailbox from an empty kleenex box.  Quite creative.  She then proceeded to explain the 37 steps necessary to send mail.  One of the things I can't figure out is when my kids invent these games with so many rules and regulations, is it a byproduct of having moved to a bureaucratic country or just their nature.  Anyway, after convincing her that just putting the person's name on the letter could also work, we have had such fun.  I recommend every family create a mail system.  We have been pleasantly surprised by many of the letters.

And almost the moment Passover was over, Israeli flags were getting hung all over town for the upcoming Independence Day celebration.  It seems that one celebration just flows right to the next.  Our courtyard of dreams organizes a presentation that blends Memorial day into Independence Day.  One literally ends as the other begins so all 3 kids have dance/play practice this week.  The songs A has been singing from her Kindergarten are so cute.  On a sad note, they also get introduced to Holocaust remembrance at a young age.  I think the schools do a very good job presenting it but it is of course rather emotionally overwhelming, for any age, and all the more so for young children.  L drew a picture in art of Jewish people hiding behind bushes, and under water (with breathing sticks) and scary men with swords trying to find them.  A woman in the center is holding her baby and L explained she has a scared look on her face because she is realizing that she is too late to hide.

Meanwhile I am 2/3 of the way through my observation period at the hospital.  A colleague mentioned that my Hebrew is really improving but I fear that I may never master the language.  It still seems so daunting.  Thank goodness my broken Hebrew is spoken with an American accent so I get some cred.  It's pretty interesting how patient people actually are.  The vision of my late grandfather who died in NY without ever learning English is so different to me now.  But I plod on.  Many times in the ED it is a group effort, with patients who are waiting (everyone is always waiting a very long time) pitching in with translation.  Like a crowd-sourcing live "google translate" button, but one that gives real words instead of the strange translation google often provides.  Today I told a resident that I would go in to see a patient with him because the patient was in somewhat critical condition,  and I feared losing time to my efforts to understand and be understood in Hebrew.  The irony of it was that when we entered, the patient told us that he "only speaks Russian."

Tonight I head out to visit my dad.  His chemo has apparently stopped being effective and I want another visit.  Distance from family is a hard part of aliyah.  N told me that he didn't think I should take this trip because since I am already planning to go back for work this summer and will see my parents at that time, he felt that this trip was making the statement that I didn't think my dad would be there in the summer.   We video chat a bunch, but the last time the kids saw my dad was last August.  Let's all pray that they will see him again this summer. 

School's out for Adar

And the 2 words every parent can't wait to hear:  "Great news mom, no learning for 2 weeks!"  That is how the lead-in to Purim started and while I don't think it has been entirely true, things have definitely lightened up.  Considering that after Purim we will be in the "pre-Chag" period leading up to Passover,  I am not too sure when learning will resume.  The last couple of weeks have been marathons of crazy dress days, projects, parties, fun and fairs.  Ariella asked why Mordechai is called a Yehudi (Jew) but Esther is not.  An interesting question and I think one that comes from understanding the text in it's original language.  She also wrote a song called "Haman is the loser."  Don't ask for the lyrics because the title does double duty as chorus and refrain (with the occasional "we hope he does tshuva "<repentance> thrown in).  Also, she wanted to know if Esther spoke both Hebrew and English.

Nehemiah's school fair started out sunny and beautiful and within 20 seconds turned dark, windy and started raining.  My question for the evening was were we being punished or rewarded?  Right now we're in a drought so we are all praying for rain but balance that against one of my father's mottos: No good deed goes unpunished, and well, you'll have to answer that one for yourself.  The bouncy rides were taken down but the pedal cars continued and suffice it to say that for a 10-year old boy, racing pedal cars in the rain is a major reward.  

Today I was able to see hundreds of kids in costume as schools did their own Purim parties.   Adar is a good month to keep snacks, treats, and small change on hand because for the weeks leading up to Purim it gets celebrated everywhere the kids go and even if it's gymnastics class they find themselves exchanging goody bags and/or raising money for charity.  My kids threw their things together from the Purim costume garage sale/fair we went to but some of these kids got seriously creative.  Ariella ended up wearing a flamenco dancer dress she got from Savta Joanie a few years ago and went as a flamenco rock star (some of it's attitude).  I saw quite a few flamenco dancers but none that had a rainbow wig and butterfly wings.  Costumes are her thing.

Tonight we're going to Shabbat dinner with friends and than it's party, party, party.  I'm hoping to make  a quick run to my hospital on Purim day and take the kids to visit sick kids along with other members of our congregation before we go for our festive Purim meal.  Nehemiah likes to say "Haman might have been a bad guy but if it weren't for him we wouldn't be having so much fun!"    If we have time I can also give them a quick our of the ED, so that they can see how I am spending my days now that I have "graduated from ulpan."

Wishing you all (for whom it is relevant) a Happy Purim!