Swirling Thoughts #226 - airing my dirty laundry. no, seriously.

Chapter 36 in “HOW TO BE ISRAELI” – Know Your Sirens

Several months ago when rockets were shooting out of Gaza in every direction, including ours, we experienced, for the first time, a Tzeva Adom Alert. An up and down wailing siren that we instinctively heeded by scurrying into our safe room until we heard the two thuds of two rockets falling. Yes, we are told the rockets are fired in pairs.

When I say we, I mean me and my kids. I can’t speak for all of Efrat. Though I’m told this is the first time a rocket has made it all the way from Gaza, I’m not sure there’s never been a Tzeva Adom Alert here before. Surely there have been drills. That siren certainly does sound familiar….

And so, while we scurried to our safe room, my friend’s 9 year old son, who was out for pizza with his 4 year old brother when the siren sounded (why that is totally normal, in another blog post), did what he remembered doing every other time he heard the siren. He stood very still and looked down at the floor. Until a neighbor spotted him and pulled the brothers to safety.

Twice in the last 2 weeks, all across Israel, the siren was sounded again. The same siren but this time a steady wail for a long moment of silent contemplation. The entire country came to a halt (motorists stopping and exiting their cars!) to honor the memories of the six million on Yom Hashoah and fallen soldiers/victims of terror on Yom Hazikaron. Except for some of my kids who dropped everything and made a bee-line for the safe room.

Not to be confused with Chapter 35 in “HOW TO BE ISRAELI” – Know Your Seasons

Don’t even think about ordering Sachlab in the summer. You will be rebuffed with a shocked, “Sahlab?!? But it’s SUMMER!”  Even if it is just a few weeks after Passover and really, technically, only spring.

As for Pop-Ices – frozen sugar water in a plastic tube – don’t bother looking for them in the winter. You just won’t find them.  

But for 4 short months in the winter  (only!) you will find the delicacy known as Krembo.

Ask for sandal foot panty hose in the winter and expect the clerk to demand to know why on earth you would need such a thing now. And no matter how good your explanation, she still won’t have them. I’ve said it before. It’s a small country. There’s probably just not room for summer inventory to be stocked through the winter. And vice versa.

Which follows Chapter 34 in “HOW TO BE ISRAELI” – How Not to Give Away How Israeli You've Become in the First Ten Seconds – a chapter for my children when they visit America

In America, hot dogs are generally made of meat. While the vegetarian hot dog may exist, it is not the norm. So don’t be shocked if you ask for hot dogs and pizza in the same meal and someone reminds you of the laws of kashrut (no meat and milk).

When you find yourself a boyfriend (or a seat, for that matter), you don’t ‘catch’ him (or it).

Hey, what about that Cohen boy. Is he available? Nope, he’s caught!

Saving on something in America implies a financial benefit. You can save and guard things but not on them.

Shmulik! Save on this spot for our picnic!

Rosie, guard on the baby while I run into the store.

You can partner up with someone but ‘togetherness’ implies a loving relationship, not a sharing agreement regarding stickers, candy, or make-up. Or markers.

Me and Rosie are together in markers.

In America, exercise is not “sport.”.

Nor is gym class “sport.”

And exercise clothes are not “sport clothes.”

What’s your favorite class, Becky? Sport!

Oh I see you are wearing your sport clothes. Did you do sport today?

Really, it gives me joy to know that my children are speaking English from translated Hebrew. As opposed to their mother....

Ulpan does not guarantee literacy…

My friend asked me what I’ll do next year when Sarah goes to gan. I mention going back to ulpan. Bob rolls his eyes and suggests I go work in the makolet where I can get paid to practice speaking Hebrew. It’s true – in four years my Hebrew really has advanced. Maybe I’ve outgrown ulpan? My friend suggests, at a minimum, I start listening to talk radio. Eureka! Free ulpan in my car!

Later that day, I try it out. Radio announcers are screaming at a guest. I gather that he is an important part of the Maccabi Tel Aviv Basketball organization – maybe an owner or manager or coach – and also that there is a scandal of some sort. Just then I pick up Barbara’s “sport” teacher who is tremping to parent-teacher night at school (why this is totally normal, in another blog post). I explain to her that this is how I learn Hebrew, motioning to the radio. I accept her “kol ha kavod” as if I’ve been doing this for four years. I ask her if I understand correctly – the screaming is about a money scandal? She listens for a few seconds and confirms it is but goes on to say that these conversations are beyond even her comprehension. And she is an Israeli SPORT teacher! I’ve surely found a high level free ulpan in my car!

Incidentally…

Talk radio topics this week included Defense Secretary Hagel’s visit to Israel, resolution of the El Al strike, and a very animated discussion on what constitutes a salad. The Hagel stuff was easy to understand because they broadcasted him in English. Regarding El Al I’m pretty sure the announcer said he didn’t understand one word of what happened but that the strike is resolved.  As for the salad discussion, I was laughing out loud at what I think they were saying. Stuff like – do tomatoes and onions alone make a salad? NO! A salad has to be four ingredients MINIMUM. Can a salad have big chunks of vegetables? NO! A salad has to be chopped very small! Maybe the language of salad is easy. Or maybe my Hebrew is advancing to a whole new level. A level at which I can understand Israeli talk radio announcers and laugh at their jokes!

Or maybe the joke is on me

As I pulled up in front of the makolet I realized both my babies were sleeping in the back seat. For an instant I longed for the curbside delivery service I’d left behind in New York. But then my salvation came. A good friend pulled up right in front of me, saw my situation and offered to pick up the three things I was planning to buy.

Tacos, Tortillas, and Oxygen.

Tacos and Tortillas I know. But what’s Oxygen?

The laundry detergent.

You mean in the turquoise bottle?

Yes! The turquoise!

I don’t think that is detergent.

What do you mean? I’ve been washing our clothes with it for four years.

You read the bottle?

I saw a picture of clean laundry on the bottle.

Do you remember in America there was a product called Clorox 2 – something you add to your laundry to brighten your clothes?

Um, yes.

Yeah, the Oxygen is like the Clorox 2.

So you are telling me that for four years I have been brightening but not washing my clothes? *sniffing my sleeve*

It seems that way.

OMG!

Well you certainly look clean. And bright.

Okay, can you please buy me Tacos and Tortillas and PROPER LAUNDRY DETERGENT!

And she did.

And tomorrow (for the first time in four years!) I will really wash my family’s clothes. And I will buy a newspaper.

Swirling Thoughts #225 – happy new month!

 You know it’s Rosh Hodesh when….

Your children wake up and run from room to room scrambling to find the white school uniform shirt (which they haven’t looked for since last month).

You pass the local park and spy 30 loosely supervised nine year olds roasting hot dogs over an open fire at about 9:30am.

Your gan-aged daughter comes home with her lunchbox untouched and reminds you that the Morah gave them lunch “hagigi” (holiday lunch) consisting of pizza and vafflim. It took me about two years before I realized vafflim are not waffles...

 

Your 7^th grader explains, with urgency, the need to bring a bag of Doritos and 30 plates to school because, ‘You know, Mom, we are doing Master Chef today. Likvod (to honor) Rosh Hodesh!’

The significance of Rosh Hodesh (literally, the head of the month) as a cultural phenomenon in Israel surely stems from its religious importance. So important that if you forget the special prayer that pertains to Rosh Hodesh on that day, you need to repeat a good portion of the entire prayer service. But why is the start of a new month so religiously important? I asked my friend David Zeit who explained it like this:

Rosh Hodesh determines our entire calendar (a lunar calendar) - as such it determines when holidays and other significant events will take place. Additionally, the first misva given to us as a Nation, was the misva of Qiddush HaHodesh (the sanctification of the new month)

"This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months" Exodus 12:2

(referring to the month of Nissan). Because this misva was given to us upon our redemption from Egypt, the misva was performed by the Elders of the Sanhedrin in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

Thank you David!

And in case you forget it’s Rosh Hodesh (imagine forgetting Thanksgiving Day in America?), every clerk, tremper, and neighbor you see will wish you a....

Hodesh Tov!!!!!!!!!!

Swirling Thoughts #224 - euphoria

I love to run.

I love my family.

I love Jerusalem.

And I love a strong cup of coffee.

My list is in no particular order.

Obviously.

And so it occurred to me, just minutes after I started out in the 10K portion of the Jerusalem marathon this past Friday, as I passed my husband and kids who were cheering me along the hill that is Bezalel Street, I am running. In Jerusalem. My family is with me. Does a Friday morning get better than this? Coffee would have been  nice but the port-o-potties at the start line were, well, let’s just say I skipped the pre-race coffee.

Some highlights of running 10k through Jerusalem:

* Running with a unit of airforce trainees whose shirts read hashamayim hem hagvul – literally, “the heavens are the boundaries” or in the idiomatic “the sky is the limit”. They were singing Rabbi Nachman’s famous words of emunah (faith) at the top of their lungs,

כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד והעיקר לא לפחד כלל

(all the world is a very narrow bridge and the important thing is not to be afraid at all) 

* Catching a glimpse of Batman stealthily running atop the walls of the old city (yes i stopped to take this picture and no, i did not do it fast enough to catch the elusive super-hero).

* Seeing a lean black runner and mindlessly assuming he was a Kenyan who’d come to participate in the race, then noticing the tzitzit hanging from under his race shirt and realizing, “he’s one of us!”

* Finishing up the race behind THIS couple - their shirts read Faith Church Hungary and each carried a small Israeli flag as they ran.

 

* Receiving my complimentary Turkish coffee, prepared in a most authentic manner, post-race.

 

* Comparing notes with Barbara who managed to find a clean bathroom along the route of the 5K race. (That’s my daughter!)

There was much talk about next year's race. (The rest of the kids want in.) 

Becky, "i can run 60 meter!" (and she says meh-ter, not mee-ter)

Asher, "i can run 200 meter!"

Rosie, "i want to run, mommy!"

Peetoosh, "i also want to run!"

Barbara rolled her eyes.

I said, "we'll see."

Next Year in Jerusalem!
post-script: thanks to our generous supporters, we were able to have all this fun WHILE raising 7500 NIS for SHALVA - an amazing organization that provides activities and support for mentally and physically handicapped children in Israel. kol hakavod! and thank you to SHALVA for making it so easy to run!

swirling thoughts #221 - oops (written but never posted...til now. i blame the valium)

A sense of humor only takes you so far. And then you need valium.

How could I even say such a thing? Because I can. I carry valium in my wallet. When Bob had to go for an MRI of his back (Bob is a veteran of back surgery and, as we discovered during a tour of the underground Kotel tunnels, extremely claustrophobic) we requested an open MRI, which, incidentally, you can get in NY as easy as a slice of pizza. In Israel, the wait for open MRI is one year. And so we opted for the closed MRI, for which we got a middle of the night appointment 3 weeks later. The doc gave me two tablets of valium and told me to give Bob only one.

So why two?

In case things get really bad.

Bob was working hard on ‘mind over matter’ and got through the experience with the one tablet. And so I’ve got mother’s little helper in my wallet, sandwiched between my 2 licenses – the Israeli and the expired NY. In case things get really bad.

Any mother who’s missed several nights sleep with a baby running fever in the 40+ range knows how hard it can be to maintain a sense of humor while fighting off hallucinations of sleep. Add to that the stress of zig zag-ing between branches of the health clinic to catch the lab guy on the eve of Sukkot (read: streets blocked with sukkah parts, lulav vendors, bajillions of school children not in school) and the only laughter you will hear is that scary nervous laughter of a person on the brink of insanity.

When life was really hard…

There’s a story my husband tells about my father in law when he wants to illustrate the Israel of his father’s youth. It was Yom Kippur in 1947. Not unlike Yom Kippur in 2012, while the grown-ups were inside the shul praying, the kids were outside the shul running around. Except that my father in law, then 11 years old, and his friends stumbled upon a shell of a bomb. Not unusual in southern Tel Aviv in those days when tensions ran high between Jews, Arabs, and British. As the boys were playing with the shell, my father in law realized it was warm. He turned to tell his younger brother to get back, that it was going to blow up. As his brother ran, the shell exploded, killing two of his friends. My father in law, with his back still turned, miraculously, was okay, but his brother was standing just far enough away to be hit by the arc of shrapnel coming out of the bomb. As the story goes, my husband’s uncle, young and full of shrapnel, almost died. He needed life-saving antibiotics but there were none to be had. My father in law went to the black market and got the antibiotics. And saved his brother’s life again.

Things are different now. You can get antibiotics. But don’t be picky.

Not wanting to sound like that mother who thinks she knows better than the doctor but, inevitably, sounding like that mother, I said, “She was on penicillin two weeks ago. Isn’t there something about changing up the antibiotics?” Turns out, Israeli doctors know all about the changing up of the antibiotics. Except, “the antibiotic I want her to have has been unavailable for the last two months.” Unavailable at the local pharmacy? But I knew the answer. Unavailable in the whole aretz.

swirling thoughts #223 - It’s normal to have a strategy

Everyone’s got a strategy – depending on their situation.

For my kids, it’s how they’ll walk to school so that they are not more than a minute from a bomb shelter (go up the street behind the school because there are more houses - in case they need to run into one).

For me it’s how we will sleep in the house at night in Bob’s absence (Barbara in my bed;  if need be, she will grab the baby, I will grab Peetoosh, we will call to the others simultaneously to wake up and get down to the bomb shelter).

For my friend, it’s how her son will return to school in Qiryat Arba when there is stoning on the road (Egged bus with bullet proof windows and armed bus driver).

For a friend returning to Jerusalem from Sderot, after a morning full of missile attacks, it’s how best to exit the car should there be another a tzeva adom (red alert) siren blast while he is driving (seatbelt off until after Beer Sheva).

Thank God for family

I have spoken to our Tel Aviv relatives more in the past week than I have in the past 3 months.

In just one day:

Missile in Tel Aviv – yes, they’re okay.

Baruch Hashem.

Missile in Gush Etzion – yes, we’re okay.

Baruch Hashem.

Stoning on the road in Gush Etzion – yes, we’re okay.

Baruch Hashem.

Bus bomb in Tel Aviv – yes, they’re okay.

Baruch Hashem.

Actually, we’re all family

Every phone call from someone’s son or husband is celebrated by everyone within earshot and our collective breath is held indefinitely as we await word from sons and husbands who have not yet called.

I asked my brother if our mom ever canceled a dentist appointment because she didn’t want to risk having to jump out of the car on the highway in order to shelter us with her body in the event of a missile attack. It was a rhetorical question but it underlined a reality we are living here. The younger (read: more Israeli) children, seem to have a better handle on this nutty reality. One friend, distraught in her bomb shelter, was comforted by her four year old who reminded her, very matter-of-factly, “In the mamad we read books and say tehillim and stay safe, Eema.”  I’m not sure I can fully articulate our reality but our Tel Aviv cousin keeps trying.

To live here is to have a beautiful life in a beautiful land but also – sometimes – balagan (craziness). 

Peetoosh started every other sentence today with “When the bomb comes, I will…”.

Having a strategy is normal. Even when the situation is not.

Swirling Thoughts #222 - We’re fine, B”H

For four days my FB status read:

“My country is under attack. You will hear about it soon enough...when we retaliate.”

My country being Israel. Our attackers, Hamas and its supporters in Gaza. And on the fifth day we did retaliate. And so began Operation Pillar of Defense.

Everyone sent us their heartfelt support. But we’re out of rocket range, I kept telling them.  Don’t feel bad for us. Feel bad for my friends and neighbors whose husbands and sons and sons-in-law are being called to the front.

I wondered if my organic vegetable order would arrive from Ben’s Farm near Bet Shemesh Thursday after a day that included 3 killed in Kiryat Malachi and the first missile to reach Tel Aviv. When it showed up at 8pm my biggest concern was making sure I left time from my Friday Shabbat cooking to check my mustard greens and arugula for bugs.

I was consumed with my organic produce almost until candle-lighting. My mother in law called. I reassured her we were fine as I dealt with my leaves. She asked if our gas masks were in our bomb shelter. I joked that I had moved them to make room for some wine. I spoke to our cousins in Tel Aviv who assured me they were fine. I emailed my mom, as time was running out before Shabbat. We’re fine, I told her. Shabbat Shalom! And so we lit candles, me and my five girls. Asher and Bob made their way to shul.

I started cutting tomatoes into an endless bowl of greens. And suddenly we heard a siren. I screamed up to Barbara in the attic. Suddenly everyone was screaming. We tripped over each other scrambling down to the basement. We were in the bomb shelter. Also known as Bob’s office. But something was not right. It took me a minute but I figured it out. We needed to close the metal plates covering the window.

Barbara: Mommy!

Rosie: Close the window!

Peetoosh: I’m scared!

Becky: Eeeeemmmaaaaa!!!!!!!!!  We’re gonna DIE!!!!!!!!!!

And then they were closed. And then we heard a boom.

Me: Did you hear that?

Barbara: Yes! I heard it!

Becky: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Rosie (hands over her ears): I have a headache! Make Becky stop screaming!

Peetoosh: What’s that noise?

Sarah was the only quiet one.

When Becky stopped screaming to catch her breath, Rosie whispered to me:

I know a perek of Tehillim by heart, Mommy.

Which reminded a suddenly quiet Becky that she knows a special blessing for the soldiers by heart.

And so we started praying and reciting tehillim.

Until Sarah started squealing and Barbara asked:

So how long do we have to stay in here?

Um… I have no idea.           

Slowly we ventured out.  

What if they shoot a rocket at us again?

My heart ached, thinking of families who endure this on a regular basis.

They probably don’t have so many rockets that can reach this far.

But what if they do?

We’ll go back in the shelter.

What if Aba and Asher are walking when there’s a siren?

They will go into a neighbor’s shelter.

What if I am walking in an open field and there is a siren?

Lay down, face to the ground, and cover the back of your head with your hands. Um, when are you going to an open field?

And, like this, we slowly we got back to normal. Sort of.

We talked about what to do if you are wheeling a patient in a hospital bed when the siren sounds. (Duck under the gurney but first place a pillow over the head of the patient!)

Asher and Bob came home and told us how half the shul stayed inside and half went outside to see if they could see the rocket. I cringed until Bob assured me he and Asher were part of the inside half.

Dinner was delicious and quiet, save for some outbursts of hysteria over how long we actually have once the siren sounds (“75 seconds?!…What if I’m in the shower!?”) The salad was totally worth all the effort.

Throughout Shabbat we heard about this one and that one called up for reserve duty. Bob couldn’t get over how normal the abnormal is here. I think it shook him to see his Israeli friends in uniform leaving their homes on a Friday night.

And after Shabbat one Tel Aviv cousin called to see if we were okay. And the reality became clear. We are now in rocket range.  In the same breath he told me about the 10 buses he saw picking up reservists but that I don’t have to worry because Hamas doesn’t have so many rockets that can reach this far. This seems to be the standard line of comfort. Who knows if it's true. He said they’ve never aimed at Jerusalem before but that this is how it is to live in Israel. The abnormal is normal. And that it will all be okay.

My kids went to school like normal today. One texted me a message about a new teacher getting her name wrong. My next text came from my good friend. Whose son just called her from the front to let her know he is turning off his cell phone now and will not be able to call again.

Swirling Thoughts #220 – The tip of the iceberg

I taught Becky the “30 Days Has September” song in response to this “math” question: “How many days are in the English months?”

For those of you who don’t still sing this song to determine whether the date is August 31 or September 1 (for the record, I totally do):

30 days has September, April, June, and November

All the rest have 31

Except for, quite contrary, February, which has 28…most of the time

But in LEAP YEAR, 29!

So far so good. Except for the dazed look on Becky’s face.

Me: You just need to know about the exceptions and all the rest are 31.

Becky: But what are the rest, Mommy?

Me: Um. Well. There’s October. December. January. Skip February, remember? March. May. July. August….Becky do you know the English months?

Becky: Um. Which month is Yanuar?

Me: Becky, tell me the months in order.

Becky: September. April. June. November. Adar.

Me: Ok. Stop.

Two days earlier…

Rosie, now in the first grade, excitedly showing me her “1^st Grade Reader” (Mikrei Aleph): Mommy, we have to laktoff it.

Me: Laktoff?

Rosie: Yeah, you know with shekufit!

Me: Shekufit?

Rosie: Yes! You know – something shekuf!

Becky to the rescue: Mom, she needs you to cover her book with that clear stuff.

Me (clutching my head): She needs to learn English.

Not 24 hours later…

The sound of Asher strumming his electric guitar reminds me of Jimi Hendrix. And my Jimi Hendrix cassette tape. I run upstairs and pop it into the boom box (the boom box I cleverly bought so as to still enjoy those cassettes that made aliyah with me). Before I hit play I explain to a curious Asher, “This is Jimi Hendrix, electric guitar legend, playing The Star Spangled Banner.”

Blank stare.

Me: The national anthem of the United States of America?

Blank stare.

Me: Before every ball game?

And now…the awkward part where I sing (a cappella) the national anthem to my son, “and-the-rockets’-red-glare” high notes and all, so that he can fully appreciate the genius of the Jimi Hendrix version, although, at this point, it is clear I have ruined Jimi Hendrix for my son forever.

Jimi fades as my thoughts swirl at tornado speed. How will Becky write a check? Fill out a form with her birthday? Know when her credit card expires? Apply for a credit card? How will Rosie communicate with her cousins in America? Will Asher be the only one not singing along at the opening of a Yankee game? What are the other gaps in his cultural knowledge? Will I catch them in time? Where should I start? Calendar. Patriotic songs. Shakespeare. US capitals---

My swirling thoughts are interrupted by Rosie asking Barbara why she wore her grey shirt to school today.

Barbara: It wasn’t a shirt. It was a sweatshirt.

Rose: What’s a sweatshirt?

Barbara: Um. It’s a svetter.

Rose: Oh.

Me, laughing, to Barbara. Did that really just happen?

Barbara, cracking up: Yep. It really did.