Soundtrack to Shabbat
As I was speeding through the genres I never tune into, I got to the On Broadway channel and caught the end of Bernadette Peters singing "Time Heals Everything," from the musical Mack and Mabel.
"Tuesday, Thursday. April, August. Next year, some year, time heals everything …"
And I started crying. Not tearing up, mind you. Full blast bawling.
On the Fence about Hebrew School
More than halfway into the Hebrew school calendar, Maxon is very clear how he feels about it: He hates it (quel surprise), it's boring, and he really wants to learn Hebrew but isn't learning it – or anything else.
Now, I have a midterm report card that paints a slightly different picture, but still. My feelings about Hebrew school are more conflicted. When Maxon gets closer to his Bar Mitzvah, we will have to pay extra for tutoring at the synagogue regardless, so why not just get a tutor now, reclaim our weekends and be done with Hebrew school?
The Painful Noises of Parenting
When my sister and I were around 10 and 7 — the same ages my boys are now — we saw the animated feature Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. The movie has manyhighlights, but one of the gems is the marching song that the Orcs sing as they stomp through Mordor. It's titled, "Where There's a Whip, There's a Way."
A Tearful Goodbye to Loehmann's
Even though I haven't been to a Loehmann's in years, the news that the store was closing upset me the same way as learning that a good friend is moving away. Because Loehmann's wasn't just a store to me — it was a classroom.
The last Loehmann's I frequented was on Chestnut Street in Center City, where the Modell's is now. It didn't last long in that location, but before it closed I was able get a few good deals. Still, those were nothing like the gems I purchased in the glory days of the '90s or the '80s, when I found both my prom dresses in Loehmann's glittering Back Room.
Valentine's Day Grinch
If we're going to talk about Valentine's Day, be forewarned. It's going to get a little Grinchy. Because I would love to see this ridiculous holiday erased from the calendar, along with its meddling friends, Mother's Day and Father's Day.
My husband and I have an agreement to never celebrate Valentine's Day. No dinners, no flowers, no cards. And we like it that way.
Idontwannagotoschoolitis
Me and My Snow Day Guilt
So far this school year, my kids have had an abundance of snow days, including Monday and today. Now, I would be complaining – and trust me, I would be — if I had a full time job in an office setting instead of a more flexible freelance job at home. As it is, I have to admit, when that email from the school arrives a little after 5 a.m., I feel the same twinge of joy I felt as a girl when KYW News Radio shouted out the snow code for Lower Merion Schools – 302.
The Screen Police (they live inside of my head)
My parents don't know how fortunate they were to have only one screen to police. Just a lonely, un-pausable television, not even a VCR or DVD player or DVR to keep it company.
As much as I love my instant access to my wanton binge of the Orange is the New Black television series, I wish I didn’t have so many screens to regulate. Because it's exhausting.
Me and St. Anthony
As we were leaving the school playground Monday afternoon, Maxon noticed some dark fabric poking out of the snow. He bent down and picked up an Anakin Skywalker Lego figure. It was his younger brother's Anakin Skywalker, the one lost at school last Thursday. While Ezra shed mournful tears as we pulled out of the school parking lot after a fruitless search, poor Anakin lay face down in a snow pile at the edge of the playground. Fresh snow covered him over the weekend, leaving him buried and alone, without a lightsaber, until Monday's warmer weather melted the snow and exposed his cape.
The Reluctant Mediator: A New Hope
Since I wrote the post about my reluctant role as argument mediator between my sons, I have made a change.
I have not intervened. I have not broken things up. I have not separated them, forced them to share, urged them to come to a compromise or solved any conflicts.
To give you an idea what this looks like, I offer a transcription of: Who Has the Rights to the Anakin Skywalker Lego Figure.
The Blessing of a Good Parenting Book
Mom, Reluctant Mediator
Picky Eater No More?
A Death in the Family
On Christmas Eve, my husband's grandfather Norman died. Michael went to the funeral in Florida with his father, but my mother-in-law couldn't go because of a recent hip surgery. I told her I would bring the boys over the day of the funeral. She worried that they might get frightened if they saw her or my sister-in-law crying. I told her she didn't have to worry about that, because I had prepared them.
I don't believe in hiding death or mourning from my kids. Death doesn't have to be any more mysterious than it already is.
The Two Speeds of the Raphael Boys
My kids have two speeds: impatience and slow motion, whichever is the most frustrating for the given situation.
You need some extra time to, say, meet a deadline? Whatever they want can't come fast enough: a snack, a playdate, a password, a resolution to a ridiculous argument, a witness to a new, never before seen basketball move. Whatever non-vital thing it is, it must be seen, heard, mediated or eaten before you draw one more breath.
Mom vs. the Inner Critics
Take Your "I Don't Wanna" and ....
I Don't Want to Judge You ... But I Am.
I went to one of my favorite local restaurants for dinner over Thanksgiving weekend with my husband and a friend of ours. Our boys were out sleeping at my mother's house, and we were doing what parents are wont to do when the children are not at the table: enjoying uninterrupted conversations about very adult topics.
Across from me on the other side of the restaurant, a family was nestled in at a booth. Dad was sitting next to his two kids, who looked to be about 5 or 6. Mom was on the other side of the table with a set of grandparents. Both children were plugged into their iPads with headphones on while the adults ate and talked.
Keeping Treyf
hree of my picky son's favorite foods are bacon, pork chops and ham sandwiches — and I am not stopping him from enjoying that treyf.
Keeping kosher is something that has never been on the table, so to speak, and I doubt it ever will be for my family.
I wonder if I would feel differently had I been raised that way. Many of the traditions I uphold today — such as lighting Shabbat candles, fasting on Yom Kippur and not eating bread during Passover — were all part of my upbringing.