In 2017, I give myself permission to...

For some, the New Year is all about resolutions.  I've quietly set a few for myself in the past, and usually, they have just as quietly slipped away.  No big fanfare to them, nothing too crazy that I was looking to do for (or to) myself.  I'm sure the ones I've thought of in the past were of the typical style - lose weight, eat better, swear less.  This year, I decided that instead of setting resolutions for myself (which were bound for failure anyway), I would give myself permission to do (or not do) some things.  Of course, since it is now halfway through March, I am going to start off by giving myself permission to miss deadlines - whether they are arbitrarily set by me or by society.  (I can't miss filing deadlines, my clients and the courts would not be happy.)  But elsewhere, we'll see what happens.

In that vein, here are a few more.

In 2017, I give myself permission to...

Ignore the mess in the girls' rooms.  I've tried everything.  I've yelled, I've begged, I've cajoled.  Nothing seems to crack the shell of their indifference to (or ignorance of) the mess that is their bedrooms.  It does not matter how I ask or bribe, they cannot seem to keep their rooms clean.  I have even helped clean things up once or twice (or twenty times), but inevitably, those piles creep back onto the floor and in a day or two, we are back to tripping over things.  Not this year.  I have decided that life is short and before I know it, they will be packing boxes and moving away to college.  So the time I have with them before that is too precious to spend worrying about what is on the floor of their bedrooms.  The rooms have doors, so I will shut them if it gets too bad.  And I won't think about what happens when they want to have friends stay over.  (But maybe, in the meantime, if you could just pick up that...)

Do less.  Over the years, I have set impossible standards for myself.  I am the mom that volunteered for Parent Council at the Preschool and PTA at the elementary school, I was room parent and baked cookies, I took pictures and made scrapbooks, all while working full time.  This year, I'm doing less.  Perhaps not less with the girls, but less.  I'm slowly realizing that my expectations for myself are way more than what anyone else expects from me.  And while it is nice to hear the praise and the "I don't know how you get it done" comments, it is also nice to spend an evening just sitting on the couch reading, as opposed to frosting cookies or cutting photos to fit pages.  I doubt I will completely step away from volunteering (says the room parent of both girls' classes who is gearing up for Book Fair in a few months), but in the back of my head, I'm working on my ability to just say no.

To accept.  Compared to the order of my world, my older daughter's space is a mess.  Her back-pack full of crumpled papers makes me cringe, and when she talks about being able to find something in her desk, I want to cry.  (Right after I dump it out and reorganize it, of course.)  In my own world, my Type A personality is often at war with my creative side (which makes for interesting organizing), but I generally prefer organization.  In her world, chaos reigns supreme and her creative and active mind is often ten or fifteen steps ahead of where her feet are taking her.  When she does register the minutiae of everyday stuff around her, she often gets distracted before things get put away.  So this year, I'm giving myself permission to accept her as she is and to try to accept her disorganization.  I know that she is not (and never will be) exactly like me and while the need to organize may come to her later in life, she doesn't have it now.  So I will wait.  And gently remind her from time to time that things could be neater, and try to accept when they are not.

To fail miserably at something.  I must admit, I'm intensely competitive.  I don't like trying things that I know I do not do well.  I tried tennis once or twice and was not very good at it.  So I don't like to play it now.  I have a violin sitting in a case in my guest room.  It belonged to my grandfather and I had it restored a few years ago, with the idea that I would learn to play it.  But I have put off taking lessons, possibly because I worry subconsciously that I will not be able to do it and do it well.  So this year, I'm going to take the plunge and do something, knowing I might fail.

To succeed.  Just as I don't take things on if I know I might be bad at it, I tend to also stay in the mediocre range for other things.  Maybe it is because I don't know how to handle the praise and compliments, or maybe it is because I feel like I already have enough, but I sometimes catch myself pulling a Dash Paar (from the Incredibles), easing back just enough to come in 2nd and make it interesting.  This year, success is mine.  At what, I'm not sure yet.  I'll keep you posted.

To write.  I have so many plot lines jotted down in notebooks, character outlines, scene set ups, but no book.  I have a series of children's books partially written, but no publishing deal.  I struggle to allow myself time to sit down and write. (Seriously, it is March and I'm finally sitting down to finish this blog that is essentially about New Year's resolutions.)  I'm pretty sure this one is because some twisted part of my mind is stuck on the "you chose to be an attorney, so that is what you have to be.  For the rest of your life" thought and the idea that I can only have 1 career or 1 dream.  I've decided that I don't like that idea and it is o.k. to have more than 1 dream.  So I choose to write, as well as be an attorney. We'll see how that goes.

To let things (and people) go.  This last election cycle took a lot out of me.  I have struggled to reconcile the people that I thought I knew with the people I was seeing on social media.  I have struggled to imagine how things will look moving forward and have decided that my sphere of influence has to be smaller.  I'm letting go of the bigger things that I have no hope of changing (like people's minds) and focusing on the smaller things that I can control.  I'm also letting people go.  They might be classmates from grad school that I thought were friends, or even people from my hometown that were friends in high school or siblings of friends.  I probably became friends with them on social media out of some sense of duty, or a belief that I "had" to be friends with them.  For college and grad school classmates, we probably suffered through things that made us believe we had a closeness.  Unfortunately, the current political climate has shown me that I never really knew some of these people and we have absolutely nothing in common.  Even their ability to debate current issues (which I like to do) is so lacking in common courtesy and social graces that I can't handle it.  Consider them, gone.

Finally, I give myself permission to be late.  I started this blog in that vein, admitting to finishing this January-intended message in March.  But I also tend to be early for things and plan ahead to avoid traffic and will oftentimes end up sitting in my car.  Not that I mind the extra time to read, but in doing so, I sometimes push the girls out the door too fast, or miss what is going on at home.  So where I can, I'm going to relax a bit and let things wait.  If the girls want an extra story, or a few more hugs and kisses before I go, and it makes me 10 minutes late, so be it.  If I'm a few minutes late for a party or dinner because the girls had a dance they wanted to show me, great.  I'm choosing to focus  more on the moments that mean more, and less on the other stuff.  (With the legal disclaimer, of course, that court mandated filing and response deadlines must be met.)

Now I must go decide whether or not to read more of the book I'm engrossed in, or try my hand at writing a few chapters.  Decisions, decisions.

Yesterday I marched. Now what?

Yesterday, January 21, 2017, I was part of a massive, historic event.  Part of an estimated 750,000 people filling the streets of downtown Los Angeles, I marched in the Women's March, LA.  (Although, to be completely honest, we didn't march so much as we shuffled along, pressed together with men and women of all shapes and sizes, sometimes so smashed together we could barely move.)

Crowds at the Santa Clarita station waiting for the train.

In the aftermath on my social media, I saw a few things - posts of solidarity and pride, photos of women, men and families who marched, and detractors - some asking questions and some challenging the effort or those making the effort.

I came home from the March filled with pride, and also wondering.  What now?

First, I want to address the detractors, those who are questioning or even challenging the effort.  I have seen several variations of questions - some asking what we hoped to gain, some asking "why bother".  I've seen those saying things like "he's only been in office 1 day, give him a chance," and some saying "I don't get it, what is the cause?"

Here's my answer:  Do you close the gate before the cows get out, or after?

President Trump filled his campaign speeches with promises to defund Planned Parenthood, repeal Obamacare, to build a wall between the US and Mexico and to put Muslim immigrants in camps.  How do we, as Americans, sit idly by and allow any of those things to come to pass?  Worse, in the days after the election, Trump surrounded himself with transition team members who eagerly spoke out as supporting his various positions and in some cases, took those positions further.  He also included members on his team that have gone on the record denying climate change, have argued for shock therapy to "cure" homosexuality (VP Pence), and one that is a Neo-Nazi.  I ask again - should we close the gate before the cows get out, or after?

And just this week, reports are coming out that Trump is looking to cut funding to the arts, cuts to Medicare and medicaid, and massive cuts to domestic violence programs. While I have not vetted those stories on my own, the threat of those cuts should scare everyone.  (And for those that might argue "but Trump can't do those things on his own", should we sit back and wait for Congress to tow his line?)

People want us to sit back and wait to see what happens.  If that is not giving tacit permission, I don't know what is.  We are standing up to tell Washington that we will not sit idly by and watch them whittle away our quality of life.  And if you feel that those things don't apply to you, how long do you think it will take before they get to something you do care about?

Second, I have seen several articles decrying the March (mostly in connection with the D.C. March), as having excluded pro-life proponents.  I have also seen posts and articles claiming that those stories are either false, or put out there in an attempt to cast the March in a bad light.  I have not done any research, and do not know what truth there is to those stories.  I do know that I did not see anything in LA yesterday that would lead me to believe that anyone was excluded.  I even saw pro-Trump signs. For that point, I can only tell people what I saw, and that was a peaceful, inclusive crowd, open to all shapes, sizes and stripes of humanity.  I will also say that for me, personally, I think we need to include people of both camps in any discussion.  There is nothing written anywhere in stone that says just because someone is pro-life, they cannot be in favor of protecting women's rights.  There is also nothing saying that pro-life and pro-choice proponents can't champion the same other causes.  So we all need to keep an open mind.

Third, to those who have been asking what our "cause" is in marching, I say this.  All you have to do is read a few of the signs to see what the cause is - or in fact, causes are.   Some were marching to protest the proposed repeal of the ACA.  Some were marching to protect women's rights (the threat against Roe v. Wade is very real, with legislatures in several states working on bills to limit a woman's rights and the make-up of the Supreme Court an open issue).  Some were marching to support the LGBT community and protest the dangers they face.  Some are marching to protest Trump's appointees to various cabinet positions, appointments that appear to be without reason.

There are several very real threats to various groups of people, threats that have been foretold in campaign speeches of the very man elected President.  And while some might argue that the marches were merely "anti-Trump" rallies, I don't think anything is that simple.  Instead of dismissing the marches so easily, perhaps you need to take a closer look at the signs and ask yourselves - why so many people (not just women), and what are they saying?  Stop, look, and listen.

Finally, what now.  We came, we saw, we marched.  At the end of a long day, we stood in massive lines for bathrooms and snacks, and then we packed ourselves onto crowded trains and subways to make our ways home.  We watched the news, we watched the administration (Trump) call us out and we waited.  So what now?

As my supportive husband asked - what do "we" (the collective we) do with this energy?  How do we keep things moving forward?  Someone else asked - was there anyone there signing people up to vote?  Was there anyone there taking down names or email addresses so that people could volunteer or donate?  From where I was, unfortunately no.  There was such a huge crush of people, I'm not sure that was possible.  I would like to think that there is someone, somewhere trying to organize things and keep this movement going.

For those of you reading this wondering what you can do, I have a few thoughts.  Donate to Planned Parenthood, donate to the Jewish Defense League, donate to your local arts programs, donate to a battered woman's shelter or domestic violence program.  Change the word "donate" in the last sentence to "VOLUNTEER" and read it again.  Get out there and help in your community.

Let your voices be heard.  Call your representatives and tell them not to repeal the ACA.  Tell them to protect your rights.  Organize at the local level.  If you feel so moved, run for office.  We have become complacent, believing that those in government have our best interests at heart.  Many don't.  Many are motivated by the lobbyists' dollars and have forgotten that they work for us.

While some see this as a largely "democratic" issue, it is not.  This is an American issue.  As I mentioned above, just because there aren't currently any threats to the things you hold dear doesn't mean those threats aren't coming. (Recall that famous poem about not speaking up when they came for other groups, until finally they come for you and there is no no one left to speak up for you.)  I have had many friends say that they didn't vote for Trump - either because they supported another Republican candidate, or because they didn't like Hillary.  If that's the case and there are things that Trump is doing or saying that you don't agree with, speak out.  Let Washington know that we - all voices - want to be heard.

Regardless of what "side" of the issues you are on, don't expect this to stop.  Don't expect these issues to go away or be swept under the rug.  There are those who will continue to organize, who will continue to fight.  Educate yourselves.  Don't take things are face value, and don't accept as truth everything you read on social media.  See past the headlines and find the truth for yourself.  Don't accept something as truth just because someone told you to believe them.  Also, to those who disagree with you - be civil, be human.  You never know when you might need something from them.  Let's do away with the labels - we are not "snowflakes" or "libtards" - and lumping people into large groups does not get anyone anywhere.  (To my Republican friends reading this, do you like being lumped in with Trump supporters if you did not vote for him?  Just as you may not like over-generalization, neither do we.)   Side note - I will continue to call neo-Nazis just that.

Also, don't assume that just because someone disagrees with you on one issue, that they are against you on all issues.  There are so many shades of grey.  And remember to keep an open mind.  I disagree with friends on many issues, but I am willing to sit down and listen, always willing to engage in thoughtful discussion.  The odds of my convincing them that I am right, or vice versa, is small.  But in the course of discussion, we may gain a bit of insight or understanding.  You never know.

Last thought - if there was another March tomorrow, would I go?  Putting logistics of child care and school schedules and work aside, yes.  But I might take the earlier train.  :)

Crowds at City Hall - LA

 

"They'll grow out of it eventually,"

With one simple sentence, (and likely without realizing it), my hubby managed to put just a bit of my stress to rest.

I have 2 daughters.  As a result, we have a lot of toys.  More specifically, we have a lot of stuffed animals.  Both girls have cubbies under their beds, which are used to house many of those stuffed "friends."  But things are getting crazy.  Not only are things crowded under the beds, but sometimes there is barely room for the girls to sleep in their beds.

Over the past few years, I have tried several times to cull out some of the less-favorable friends and "hide" them or send them on to better homes.  What makes this effort so difficult, is that I can rarely get through the pile without noting where each specific animal came from and much of time, having a story to go along with it.  The dog that K never plays with that suddenly showed up on her floor last week?  It came from Grandma Trudy's house.  No getting rid of that.  The zebra that suddenly materialized?  Nana gave it to her.  The bunny rabbit that I literally have not seen in 2 years that is suddenly back in the rotation?  Gift with purchase, but came at a time K was throwing a fit in the store and perfectly distracted her.  The same goes in B's room.

Each stuffed animal has a story, and a name, and a reason that they can't move on.  It stresses me out.  Some days, way more than others.  As I'm trying to clean the house and put away the holiday stuff, the sight of the messy pile on K's bedroom floor (a result of cleaning off her bed to change the sheets) and the knowledge that B also has a pile, drives me crazy.  It makes my stomach clench at the thought of all of the clutter and the feeling that I cannot get ahead of it.

Then last night, with one simple comment from my husband, things changed.  My stomach unclenched just a bit and I relaxed.  "They'll grow out of it eventually."  Yes, they will.  At some point, many of those beloved friends will cease being quite so important.  One by one, they might be willingly donated by my girls to new families with little ones in need of some companionship.  (Think "Toy Story" here.)  Bit by bit, the room decor will change and stuffed friends will give over to more nail polish and make-up (or books.  I'm good with books.)  And I'll miss this.  I'll miss this crazy, unorganized and unruly pile of fluff and stuff.

Sadly, there will be a day when my girls won't lay in bed in the mornings giggling because Mommy made Olaf sing and dance and Mr. Bear woke them with tickles; a day when they won't cling to a stuffy friend when they are upset.  I don't want that day to come too soon.  So in the meantime, I'll step over the pile and hope that I don't accidentally "hurt" anyone buried underneath.  (Stuffed boo-boos being so hard to care for.)  I'll continue to put them away in their "house" under the bed and I'll smile when an old friend comes back into the rotation.  I'll wait, and I'll let them have this moment.  Because someday, it will be gone.

Why Everyone Should Have At Least One Jewish Friend... and a paper calendar

Have you ever wondered what those odd holidays are on your calendar, the ones that pop up randomly every year, in September or October, but never seem to be on the same dates two years in a row?  Have you ever wondered what they mean, who celebrates them or why they are on your calendar?  I used to wonder too.  Sometimes, one would even fall on my birthday.  That strange and wonderful day of "Rosh Hashana" or "Yom Kippur" that I knew nothing about.  I liked that my birthday coincided with a holiday, before I knew what that holiday was or who celebrated it, or what it even meant.

Now I know.  I think I was in high school when I learned that Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur were Jewish holidays.  I did not look for or get much more information other than that until college or even grad school.  Schools were not closed on those days, banks remained open and mail was delivered.  The holidays did not have any impact on me, so they passed largely unnoticed in my world at that time.  Sound familiar?

Fast forward to grad school.  I suddenly had friends who would disappear for several days in September and October.  Wondering where they were, I was told "in Temple" or "at services."  I learned that schools in Los Angeles actually close on those days (as do many local universities and colleges) so that Jewish students and families can celebrate without worrying about missing school or making up homework.  Then I studied Judaism, and subsequently converted and am now well-versed in the holidays and traditions.  (And now that I know, it is not necessarily as fun that my birthday sometimes falls on the holidays, but we'll get to that.)

Fast forward from grad school to now and I have come to the conclusion that everyone, in all walks of life, needs at least one Jewish friend.  Why?  So that when that ol' calendar rolls around to September and October, we can remind everyone else not to schedule things on those days.  Why?  Because it is important to us.  And you wouldn't want us to schedule something on Christmas or Easter, right?

So what is Rosh Hashana?  Well, it is the Jewish New Year.  You might know that the Jewish calendar is based upon the lunar cycles, so each month has 29 or 30 days, and every so often, an extra month is added so that the calendar can catch up.  (Kind of like leap year.)  This is also why the days of Jewish holidays do not fall on the same corresponding Gregorian calendar date each year.  (The Gregorian calendar is the basis for traditional 12-month calendars you are used to.)

But the holiday is more than the beginning of a new month and a new year.  In Jewish tradition, the New Year is a time to rejoice, but it is also a time for self-reflection and study.  It is believed that on Rosh Hashana, the Book of Life is opened by G*d and everyone has a chance to right past wrongs, in order to be written in the Book of Life.  8 days later comes Yom Kippur, which is considered by many to be the holiest day of the year for Jews.  On Yom Kippur, the Book of Life is sealed (for another year.)   Many Jews spend the day in Temple, in prayer.  Many Jews also fast (don't eat) from sundown to sundown.  (Because the Jewish calendar is based upon the Lunar cycle, holidays run from sundown to sundown, meaning that Yom Kippur will start tonight at sundown and end tomorrow at sundown.  This is also why the 8 nights of Hanukkah are celebrated, as opposed to days.)  *Brief side note - this is why I also learned that it is not necessarily a good thing to have Yom Kippur fall on your birthday.  Imagine having to go all day without eating.  That's right, no cake or ice cream or a drink. Nothing until well after sundown and after having sat in Temple.  All.  Day.  Long.  Yom Kippur fell on my 30th.  But I digress.

While I could certainly go on in much more detail about why Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are important to the Jewish faith and tradition, take it simply as this: New Year, and holiest day of the year.

Why is this important?  Because just about every year, without fail, something in my sphere gets scheduled on one of those days, which I then have to miss.  One year it was a teacher's meeting and workshop that I had to miss.  Several times there have been meetings or events for groups or associations that I belong to and have had to miss.  We have to work around missing a meeting for B that was scheduled during the holidays.  I've heard various excuses or reasons why things are scheduled on those days, but the most common is actually that people have no idea what the day is or even when it is.

I think I've addressed the "what it is" above.  But let's talk briefly about "when it is."  This is why, folks, I've decided that not only does everyone need a Jewish friend to remind them, but everyone needs to invest in a paper calendar.  I know that we've all gone tech-savvy, but many of those electronic calendars don't include Jewish holidays unless you specifically tell it to.   If you have a paper calendar, those dates are pre-marked for your convenience.  (And while many of us who celebrate have gotten calendars that have the wrong dates for those holidays, they are at least close enough, so that you can ask your token Jewish friend to confirm.)

Here's the thing.  If you see something at work that is unfamiliar, you research or ask for clarification, right?  If your child brings something home from school that requires your attention and you don't understand it, you research it, right?  So if you are planning an event or meeting or anything that might include people of other faiths, why not take a minute to check that calendar (the paper one) and see if there is anything listed.  You might save your Jewish friend (or friends) some agony in having to miss an event or otherwise plan around.

And of course,with a few of those Jewish friends around - odds are they know how to make a kick a** matzah ball/ chicken soup, and/or probably have a Mom or Bubbe (grandma) somewhere in their family that is a great cook.  Bonus!

Why I never got an Easy Bake Oven.

Or, "why I understand my parents better now that I have kids, part 205."

As a kid, I was sure that my parents had it all wrong.  An Easy Bake oven (and a Barbie Dream House) were by far the best toys for me and my sisters, hands down.  I knew how to bake, so it made perfect sense, right?  Unfortunately for me, many years of letters to Santa and many holidays and birthdays passed without that coveted Oven showing up on my doorstep, under my tree, or in my grabby little hands.  I never understood why.  Did my parents know something that I did not?

If you ask any kid between the ages of about 8 and 25, they will tell you that their parents are clueless.  Of course, if you ask someone who has kids, they will probably tell you that they are starting to understand why their parents did what they did.  It is the beauty of life, and either way, I'm pretty sure our grandparents and great-grandparents who have passed away are up there somewhere laughing their butts off at us.

For me personally, there were many things about my parents' decisions that I did not understand.  I was sure that they were deliberately trying to make my life miserable and had no idea how to actually raise human beings.  (And I really, really wanted that Easy Bake Oven.)

Then I had kids.  A few of you might have seen my Facebook post a week or two ago, wondering when children come to the realization that their parents are usually right about everything.  Some of my older friends, with older kids, laughed outright (I could hear their laughter through their comments) at my question.  Aunts and Uncles with children (my cousins) in their 20s and early 30s were laughing as well.  A few admitting that their own children have finally (at that late age) started to acknowledge their parents' acumen.  Apparently, at 5 and 10, mine have a ways to go.

But back to the Easy Bake.  For some reason, B (the 10 year old) decided that she wanted one.  (This was news to me.)  She likes to "bake" with me - hang out in the kitchen and ask lots of questions while I bake - but gets bored easily and does not have a good attention to detail.  I think this was her way of wanting to "connect" with me on a different level.  Her Nana likes to take her shopping at Toys R Us for her birthday.  This past birthday, B called me to ask if it was o.k. for Nana to get her the Oven.  I hesitated and said that she really didn't need it (although newly redesigned), even if Nana was buying, and that we had an oven that worked quite well.  (Do you hear my parents coming through yet?)

On her birthday, she gleefully opened up the large box from Nana and Papa, already knowing what was in it, and looked to me for approval.  I sighed and shook my head.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I finally caved and let her open it.  (Another thing I finally understand - my Dad's seemingly odd desire to have us not open gifts and play with them, but rather keep them pristine and in the box - but that's another blog post.)  She happily starting pulling things out of the box and checking out the process. The 5 year old had her nose firmly planted in B's business, almost as excited as she was to "bake."

I asked to look at the instructions and saw fairly quickly that it was a relatively easy process of mixing powder with water, placing little balls of dough on a tiny pan and running it through a box-like machine that generated heat.  I asked B to read the instructions carefully, like I always do, and sent her on her way.  About 10 minutes later, I heard the first "oh no!" and wondered what was happening.  (I was trying to let her test her wings and was across the room on the couch.)   She had mis-read the instructions and poured too much water into the mix.  There was no way to salvage it.  And after telling her to pour it down the drain and start over with a new mix, Daddy stepped in and asked her if she understood now why I was so specific with things when I bake.  I'm not sure if she got it or not.  Recovering from her failure, she pulled out another mix and with K's help, made some cookies.

On the one hand, I now understand why my parents had always said "no" to the Easy Bake Oven.  When I make a batch of cookies, depending on what I'm making, there is a yield of 2 to 4 dozen cookies.  I use ingredients that I normally have in my house like butter, sugar, flour, etc., unless I'm making a cake with a mix.  Depending on the cookie, I can fit 12 to 24 on a baking sheet at a time and they cook in my regular oven.  Size-wise, they are usually at least bigger than silver dollars.  Not to toot my own horn, but my cookies have taste and are considered delicious by many.  The Easy Bake cookies were tiny (about the size of a penny) and one batch yielded about  10 cookies.  There was not much taste beyond the sugar in the frosting (also a mix with water added) and the sprinkles.

But on the other hand, B was incredibly proud of herself, and for about a 1/2 hour, happy and entertaining both herself and her little sister.

At the end of the day, do we really need the Oven in the house?  No.  Will B someday figure out how to pay attention to the details in the directions and be able to bake with me in the big kitchen?  Probably. (I hope so.)  Do I now understand some of the reasons why my parents probably opted not to grant my wish to Santa for the Oven?  Yes.  Does it matter?  Probably not.  Aside from the fact that she does, in fact, already have the oven, she's happy.  And at the end of the day, as long as she's not creating havoc in my kitchen, I think I'm o.k. with that.

Today's Parenting Fail

It started out as a conversation with B about how to treat people nicely.  It started out as my wanting to impress on her that I did not think she acted appropriately this morning in responding to a schoolmate who said hello.  It was a conversation being held in the car, on the way to Hebrew School.  Perhaps that was fail #1, as I couldn't sit and face her while talking.  But I did not want the conversation to wait, feeling that it was important to address it before too many days passed and she would forget the particular circumstances.  I wanted to remind her of what Daddy and I always say: "when all else fails, just be nice!"

That was how it all started.  Then she started to cry.  I'll never really know if I was being manipulated or not, if she started to cry to change the subject, or because she wanted to make the situation about how she has been harmed or hurt, and less about the other person.  I'll never know, but I'm curious.  Then again, I have to hope that she is not that devious.

At her core, B has an incredibly kind heart and is generous to a fault.  Perhaps because of that loving heart, she is not quite sure how to handle people who are not nice.  (I truly think that when she says things to people or adopts a particular tone of voice or demeanor, she is mimicking what she has heard elsewhere and I also believe that her mind moves too quickly to process how she is acting in any given situation.  I think she just wants to get the words out and does not always consider the method of delivery.)  In any event, she started crying.

I first thought she was crying because she was upset that I was upset.  (She has done this before, when the idea of my being angry with her was too much to bear.)  Then she started mumbling words in between the sobs.  Apparently, a few boys have started calling her "nerd" because of her glasses.  My initial reaction?  Tell them to shove off.  (Parenting Fail #2?)  That morphed into her telling me that some girls on the playground don't treat her very well and it upsets her.

How did we go from my telling her that she needed to be nice to other people, to her telling me (through tears) that she was being called names?

I hate that I cannot walk through her day with her and give her advice on how to handle situations.  I hate (sometimes) that she is young for her grade, despite being very bright, and that it creates an odd situation in which other kids may look at her strangely or treat her differently.  I hate that she doesn't always tell me about these situations.  And I hate that I can't go up to these kids and tell them to straighten out, or else!

There are the usual replies, of course.  "Sticks and stones" and all of that.  The ever-helpful "when someone is making fun of you, it's because they feel bad about themselves", and even B's suggestion of "no one can make you feel inferior without your permission."  I'm not sure any of them helped.  I also offered my usual advice of "ignore" them as to the boys who were calling her a nerd, and "walk away!", as to the girl on the handball court who she is having trouble with.

We are in an odd place in the world, when people seem to be hypersensitive to "bullying," so much so that kids aren't able to just be kids, without being labeled.  But at the same time, I want B to be able to defend herself and stand up to those that are being mean to her or bullying her, without fear that she herself will be labeled. (The girl on the handball court that picks on her and causes trouble is apparently older but smaller - an interesting combination.)

As to the boys calling her a "nerd," I tried to make her feel better by explaining that in the end, its usually the nerds that come out on top.  (Marc Zuckerburg, anyone?)  I'm not sure she believed me.

In the end, I'm left sitting here, scratching my head and wondering if my initial point was made, and also wondering when I can sneak into school and beat a few kids up for picking on my kid.  As much as it makes me cringe inside, I really do hope she learns how to navigate these treacherous waters.  I know from personal experience that it's only going to get worse in Junior High.  Until then, I guess I'll just continue to muddle through this "parenting" thing as well.

Why the Holidays Need to Back the F*** Up!

I blinked and suddenly my younger daughter's October birthday was upon us.  While I was still suck in summer mode of bathing suits and wet towels hanging all over the house, tripping over flip flops and trying to decide how low to set the air conditioner, September was giving way to October and I had a party to plan.  Hot on the heels of the mid-month party came Halloween.  Wasn't it just Valentine's Day or St. Patrick's Day or the 4th of July?!?!  Where did the year go?

Yes, I realize that somewhere along the way, we started a new school year.  But even that has thrown me for a loop.  I still drop off and pick up at the same time, in the same places, but what do you mean she's in 5th grade now?!

Suddenly, I'm turning the pages of my calendar and there are not many more pages to turn.  Suddenly, I'm filling the squares for November with birthday parties for friends and class performances and... wait a minute!  What is that?  Thanksgiving!  Already!?!?!

I've had this reaction from several family members and have even done it myself a few times.  November?  Thanksgiving?  Yes, it seems to be that time of year already.  And if our friends in the retail world have any say or sway, they would like us to skip right over Thanksgiving and go screaming into the holidays.  oy.

A few years ago, the "creep" started to move beyond the bounds of Thanksgiving weekend and Black Friday with "pre-Black Friday" sales the week before.  We started to see stores gloss over Halloween, barely give a passing thought to Thanksgiving and start to decorate early.  And with each passing year, those decorations it seems, come out earlier and earlier and earlier.  I think it's time to stop.

Last year, several big retail stores shocked our delicate sensibilities by opening on Thanksgiving.  The general public seemed outraged enough that one could wonder if the idea would be a short-lived and oft recounted marketing failure.  Apparently not.  Arriving at some stores early on the morning of Black Friday to find empty aisles and quiet check-outs was evidence of the fact that for some, the stores being open on Thanksgiving was a good thing.

This year, as I feel like time is really running away from me at warp speed, I've noticed the holidays earlier than ever.  Before Halloween had even come and gone (and while it was still 85 degrees outside at my house), the fall decor was relegated to the clearance racks and the holidays had begun.   With more than 2 months to go, stores were already pushing the holidays on us.  Sales, decorations, music, lights, oh my!  I was shocked to see that my local mall's Santa Clause has already been seeing kids for 2 weeks and the mall's ice rink is open for business too.  What?!  And as November marches on, it has only gotten worse.  Well, I for one wish they would back off.

(Of course, stores barely pay lip service to Hanukkah which begins on December 6 this year, a full 19 days before Christmas arrives.  I'm sure if I visit my local Target store, any Hanukkah items will be on clearance by Black Friday to make room for more holiday decor.  )

Why do I wish the holidays would back off, you ask.  Well, many of my fondest childhood memories revolve around the holidays.  The three "big" ones, to be exact - Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  A few summer holiday pic-nics and gatherings find their way in as well, but mostly it is those big 3 that I remember.  More specifically, it's the sites and sounds of those holidays.  Lots of food, noise and people crammed into Grandma's house.  Thanksgiving was perhaps my favorite, because it kicked off the holiday season.  Stores did not decorate early back then, and Thanksgiving was seen as the start.  I loved waking up and spending the morning watching the Macy's parade (complete with Santa's arrival at the end) and smelling the pumpkin pie baking in the oven.  The Thanksgiving parade on t.v. also meant the start of holiday commercials filled with toys and kids playing in the snow.  (Who doesn't love the Hershey Kiss bells commercial?  Seriously.)  I looked forward to that time of year with much excitement and anticipation.  I couldn't wait to see the big toy catalogs and make my lists for Santa and of course, dream of snow days and cold winter nights spent snuggled up by the fire (or the t.v.)

The retail world is slowly robbing us of these traditions.  Gone is the anticipation that Thanksgiving brings, because by the time it gets here, we are tired of being bombarded with the holiday message.  We are tired of the music and the commercials (and the catalogs in the mailbox) before December even arrives.  Why are retailers so worried about our spending habits, that they feel the need to cram the holidays down our throats starting in September?  Does it make the calendar move any faster?  No.  Christmas will still come a month after Thanksgiving.  But it does make us long for the days without all of the craziness.

People often say that we need to "remember the reason for the season" and to "put Christ back into Christmas."  As a Jew, that's not my message.  But I do understand the sentiment behind it and these days, I can certainly understand the desire to get away from being buried under the weight of the retail message of "spend money" and "shop here."  Is that really what we've become?

Whether you celebrate Hanukkah or Christmas, or Festivus, do you really need to go shopping on Thanksgiving day?  Yes, it is a personal choice.  For me, personally, I choose not to.  And while I might start listening to holiday music a bit earlier than others, I find myself wishing that the holidays would hold off just a bit longer.

Let me get to Thanksgiving and enjoy the turkey and the stuffing and the fall leaves floating in the air.  Let me enjoy the crisp air with just a hint of smoke from someone's wood burning stove floating along.  Let me enjoy the sound of crunchy leaves under my boots,  Let me enjoy my family.  Let me enjoy being surrounded by the people I love without any material possessions being attached to that time.  There are no gifts to unwrap, no trees to decorate.  Just time to spend with family and friends, gathered around a table.  No stress over finding the"perfect" gift or paying off credit cards or having enough money.  Just spending time together.

Let me enjoy the anticipation that comes with Thanksgiving weekend.  Let me enjoy seeing my kids eyes light up when they walk into a store the day or weekend after Thanksgiving to see a transformed world.  I much prefer it over having to walk into that store for weeks (or even a month) before Thanksgiving only to be asked countless times why the holiday decorations are up already.

Maybe we've missed our window of opportunity this year, as the calendar flips down to the last few weeks of November. With Thanksgiving coming up next week, maybe it is already too late to "slow the roll" that the holidays bring.  But can we at least say that we'll consider it for next year?  Can we try just a little harder next year to enjoy Halloween and the Fall season and Thanksgiving before we run headlong into the holidays and shopping and wrapping and carols and such?  Please?

As I write this, I can honestly say that I'm guilty of getting caught up in the hustle and bustle.  I've already started shopping (as I normally do throughout the year), but I also find myself wanting to slow things down and make it last.  I don't want the year to be over.  Another year over means my girls are older and my time with them is slipping away.  Another year over means parents and grandparents are a year older and our time with them is slipping away too.  I want to slow time just a bit, to enjoy the season a bit more.  To savor it and capture those memories to tuck away with the ones from my childhood.

So this year, we'll try to slow things down a bit and next year, let's slow it down a bit more.  Let's get back to the traditional start of the holidays  at Thanksgiving.  And in the meantime, I need to go bake a pie.

My Rules for Healthy Debate

The presidential race seems to be heating up earlier than it has in the past.  My Facebook page is covered on a daily basis with comments and photos and articles about the election and candidates and various political views.  Just the other day, I engaged in a little debate with a friend of mine over the topic of Planned Parenthood and whether or not it should be defunded.  The discussion started after I posted an article discussing whether or not any particular candidate "won" the Republican debate and the fact that the person some were saying had won it had gotten a few of her facts wrong. (Minor detail, right?)

The debate between my friend and I was engaging and interesting and not at all upsetting.  I have known him for almost 20 years and have always known him to be an honest and "stand up" guy.  We might not agree on a few things politically, but I still respect him and appreciate his thoughts and opinions.   During the evening, other friends posted various comments, either in response to my debate with my friend, or in response to the article.  It was while reading some of those comments that I decided to post a few rules about any political debates that might take place on my social media over the next year or so.  Feel free to institute some of these rules on your own pages, or make up and institute your own.

One: If we are Facebook friends, we likely have a history together.  I don't let just anyone onto my page and I'm not friends with the whole world.  That means that we have some kind of connection, whether through school or family or work.  (Although, I do not use my Facebook page for networking, so if I know you professionally and you are a friend on Facebook, that is because I consider you a personal friend as well.  Yes, you can be happy about that.)  All that being said, please do not take our relationship for granted.  I have allowed you into my space because I like you on a personal level and respect you.  I respect that we may have different political or religious views or beliefs and I have allowed you into my space in spite of those differences.  Please respect my space and act accordingly.

Two: Stay on topic.  I am happy to engage in debate on various topics that may appear on my page from time to time.  But if I am discussing why there should not be a tax on large cola drinks, please do not chime in to tell me that you think marshmallow fluff should be outlawed.  Please stay on topic.

Three:  Please avoid sweeping generalizations.  What are "sweeping generalizations"?  Those statements in which you claim that someone "always" or "never" does something, or that you try to convince me that you are right 100% of the time.  Nothing in this world is absolute (except death and taxes.)  If you have any sense at all, you can likely make your point without those sweeping generalizations.  One exception to this rule - if you have scientific data to back it up, go for it.  But please provide citations in your footnotes.

Four:  I get the first word and the last word.  I'm borrowing this one from my friend who I debated with.  He raised it and I liked it, so I'm borrowing it.  I generally do not care if I get the last word in a discussion, but as he mentioned, this is my page.  So if I raise the topic, please allow me the courtesy of having the last word on my own page.  I'll afford you the same courtesy.

Five:  No need for personal attacks - on me or the candidates/ subject of the topic.  Yes, politics can be very emotional and some of these are hot button issues.  But that does not give you leave to attack me personally, or attack the candidates.  Yes, Donald Trump's hair is crazy and his skin color looks like it was created in a bottle.  But those kinds of observations are not really appropriate responses to arguments on policy. (Just take a page from Donald's campaign for this one.)  Caveat - from time to time, I may post an article or photo that specifically addresses someone's look or state of dress or hairstyle, etc.  In those instances, discussion of the subject of the photo/ article/etc. is appropriate and encouraged.  Unless it's a discussion of how I'm dressed.  And then you have to be nice.

Six:  Don't tell me I'm wrong.  Seriously, see number 1.  You are my friend in spite of any differing personal, religious or political views we might have.  That does not mean that we will agree on everything.  In fact, I'm telling you right now, we won't agree on everything.  We can still debate issues and topics.  But please do not expect to gain any ground by telling me I'm wrong.  Even if I am factually wrong, (which I highly doubt would actually happen), you're not allowed to tell me that.  But by all means, expect me to tell you when  you are being a raving idiot.

Seven:  FACT CHECK.  This is a big one, folks.  If you want to debate me on something, please make sure to do  your research.  I will try and do the same.  In any situation where I haven't had the time to research a point fully, I will let you know.  Please do not come to my page expecting to get into a debate with me about something and not fact check.  (See most recent Republican debate for examples on how to make claims without fact checking, and don't do it.)

Eight: Don't expect miracles.  If you plan to engage me in a debate and make me change my mind, just turn away right now.  I can tell you with almost 100% certainty (see what I did there?) that I will not change my mind, just as you will not change yours.  Please feel free to explain to me why you believe your position is correct or superior.  Cite examples, give me research and facts, tell me why you have the better position.  I may concede a point, I may agree with you in part while disagreeing with you on other parts.  But at the end of the day, you are probably not going to change my mind.  And without a doubt, you will not get me to change my political affiliation.  Similarly, I won't try to get you to come over to the Dark Side.

  During the last presidential election, I basically ignored most of my friends' political posts.  I never blocked or unfriended anyone, despite some of my friends having very outspoken views on certain topics or candidates.  This election is shaping up to be a bit more interesting and certainly has people talking with several potentially volatile issues.  I've decided that if I can't "beat" them by ignoring it, I'll join them - but on my terms.  Oh, and one final thought.  If you post something and I choose not to respond, don't automatically assume that you "won" anything, and don't assume that you were right.  It could just be that I turned away from Facebook to live my life (get dinner for kids, put them to bed, go get my nails done, get a massage, read a book.... basically, live life.)  If I feel that it is important enough to comment on at a later time, when I'm back in the social media world, I will.  Then again, I may just feel like I've exhausted my own dialog on the topic and I'm done.  Like I said, don't assume anything by it.

Happy debating!

Conversations with my 4 year old - Swim Lessons

Last summer, K took a few lessons with the same instructor that B had, a former preschool helper who was also a swimmer/ lifeguard.  B took lessons for 2 or 3 summers from her, spending most of the first few lessons screaming and negotiating, but eventually getting the hang of things.  K was no different last summer with the screaming and negotiating.

When Nana and Papa moved to town last year, one of the first orders of business was to design and install a pool.  Despite having had a few lessons, K had no interest in swimming, but would rather hang out in the shallow end, playing with toys.  Earlier this year, K's cousin A learned to swim through what can probably be called a "crash course" in water safety.  We checked into putting K into lessons, but the teacher did not have any availability at the time.

Over the last few months, we have had quite a few Sunday afternoons playing in Nana and Papa's pool, with everyone going down the slide and diving or jumping in from the top of the hot tub, except for K.  (She did go down the slide with me once or twice, but that's about it.)  And she seemed content to keep it that way.  No amount of teasing could get her into deeper water.

Until yesterday.

When we checked with A's instructor about lessons, she was booked for a few months.  That was a few months ago.  Nana signed up for lessons for K and yesterday was lesson number 1.  This instructor has an interesting style - no parents (or big sister) are allowed out by the pool, so that the child can focus and not want to cling.  The instructor allows the child to scream for "Mommy!" as much as she/he wants to, as long as the child keeps working on whatever she has them working on.  So I stayed away.  But I had a spy.

Needless to say, K screamed yesterday during her first lesson.  She screamed a lot.  One of the favorite replies (which you can hear in the video) that she gave to the instructor's question was "NO!  NEVER!"  Towards the end of the lesson, the short clips of video that my spy was sending me showed a much calmer K, working on kicking her legs and moving her arms and even floating on her back.  Some of the clips showed her playing with toys in the shallow water, with the instructor telling her that the hard work comes first and then the fun stuff.   She seemed ready for lesson #2 today.

As the afternoon and evening wore on, K's story about swim lessons would change.  At dinner last night, K told me that the instructor told her she had to learn to swim in case any kids threw her into the water.  When I said that made sense, she told me that she did not swim with "other kids," just me.  Between putting her to bed last night and dropping her off at school this morning, she tried several more times to convince me that she did not want to continue swim lessons.  She tried "Mommy, I don't like swimming," to which I replied "you don't have to like it, you just need to learn to swim."  I even followed that up with "once you learn how to be safe in the water, you won't need any more lessons."  At one point, she came back to the "but I only swim with you, Mommy" argument.

It's hard to tell in the video clips, but I'm sure she did a fair amount of negotiating with the instructor.  She certainly tried with me once she got home.  We will see how today goes.  Hopefully a little less screaming.

When is it OK to Butt In?

I saw something today when I was out getting lunch that troubled me.  After picking up my lunch and driving away, I found that it was still troubling me.  While wondering if I should have said something, I was almost kicking myself for not saying anything.  And then, of course, the doubt creeps in, the "mind your own business" mentality, causing me to question whether or not my advice would have been heeding.

As I was pulling into the lot, I saw a mom putting a kid into her suburban on the driver's side.  As I parked next to her, I happened to look into the front passenger seat and saw a little boy sitting there. My quick glance told me that his head wasn't above the dash and as she walked away, calling over her shoulder for him (them?) to watch her stuff, the thought popped into my head of "that kid is not old enough to be in the front seat!"  The thought that immediately followed was "should I tell her that?"

Then the doubt comes.  What if she tells me to mind my own business?  What if she tells me that she knows she's not supposed to, but the kid was fighting with her and it was just a quick trip?  What if she thanks me and throws him in the back?  I really have no way of knowing, because I grabbed my lunch and drove away.  But the thought remains - when is it o.k. to say something?  When can I go up to a complete stranger and tell her that there is something wrong with the way she is parenting, in that moment.

I saw an article online this morning, where Ryan Reynolds is being taken to task for not "wearing" his baby properly.  As any other new parents out there can tell you, those baby carrier things are Satan's playground and nearly impossible to get in or out of comfortably, let alone getting the baby in or out.  Despite Ryan's being a new dad, and despite it being an adorable picture of a dad holding his baby, the internet world took him to task for doing it wrong, some quite viciously.  In today's day and age, it seems to be easy to correct someone, or tell them that they are doing it wrong, from the comfortable anonymity of their computer screen.  But what about when it is in your face?  Do you tell them?  Do you say anything?  Do you walk away just praying that the family gets home in one piece?

In case you are curious, California law requires that all kids under the age of 8 ride in the back seat, where they have to be secured in a car seat or booster seat.  If they are at least 4 ft. 9 inches, they don't need a booster seat, but still have to be in the back seat.  There are various other exceptions, under which a child under the age of 8 can ride in the front seat, but I won't bore you with the details.  I will tell you that the kid I saw in that SUV was NOT 8  years old.  He looked to be 5 or 6, if I had to guess.

The sometimes provocative ABC show "what would you do" puts people into situations like this, where you have to consider whether or not to say something. Would you have said anything to the mom?  Am I more sensitive to this myself, with one little one now in a booster seat and one older, little one just clamoring to sit in the front seat?  Does common sense come into play at all in this discussion?  Do we really want our little ones sitting up front, where an air bag could smother them or a seat belt fail to protect them because they are too small?

So what do you think?  I'm still wrestling with myself on this one.

Dear Former Boyfriend (Lover/ Significant Other)

Right about now, you are sitting there wondering why I reached out (called/ emailed/ texted/ sent a friend request on Facebook) to you.  I can almost see you sitting there, looking at your phone (computer screen), scratching your head, wondering if you should pick up (or respond or accept the request.)

Simply put, yes.  Why?  Because I'm not crazy, I'm not stalking you and I don't want to ruin your life (or mine.)  I want to be friends.  Really?  Yes.  Friends.  (And maybe it's a little bit because I've hit 40 and am feeling nostalgic for the good old days.)

First, if it helps to put your mind at ease, I'm very stable in my life these days (not that I was ever "unstable," I don't think).  Aside from making it to the ripe old age of 40 without being a drunk or addict of any kind, I have a stable home life - husband, kids, mortgage, 3 car garage, job - and I'm happy.  I am sure that you are similarly well situated in your life, in your own town, somewhere else in the country.  I am not looking to break up your life any more than I'm considering breaking up mine.

I can see you scratching your head again, wondering why I contacted you, if not to rekindle some old, possibly imagined flame.  I can see that the "friendship" idea is very confusing to you.  I will try to explain.

When we dated, we were kids.  I'm sure plenty of 18/19/20 year olds today would argue with my characterization of that age as "kids," but there it is.  When I look back at my life then, and when I see young adults of that age now, I think "kids."  I also think that I was then, and they are now, truly clueless as to the ways of the world, and existing without any idea of how things will work in the "real world."

When we dated, I had no idea who I was or what I wanted from life.  Yes, I was sure that I wanted to go to law school, come hell or high water.  I knew that I was a basketball and volleyball player and I knew that I enjoyed a modicum of success on the playing field and in the classroom.  Beyond that, I had no idea.  I was lost.  You might have been someone who "showed me the way," so the speak, if even for a brief moment of time in my life.  Perhaps you were someone who corrected me in such a way as to guide me to a better or different path (aside from the law school thing.)  Or perhaps you were just one of those bad mistakes that helped me later make a good choice.

When we dated (hung out/ slept together/whatever), I'm pretty sure I was looking for someone to like me for me, but I was not sure who I was. I know I was searching for something, but probably did not know what it was.  Being as unsure as I was on the inside, I probably said or did things that would make me cringe today.  Maybe I called you too often, or couldn't let go when it was time to.  Maybe I said "I love you" too soon, or maybe I did not say it at all when you wanted me to.  It's hard to say now, looking back 20 years or so.

Regardless, at that time, I was a lost kid, clueless in the ways of the world, and you helped shape who I am today, even if just in a tiny way.  (I can't help but wonder at what our relationship (if we had one) would have been like 10 or 15 years in the future.)  The bottom line is this - something brought us together when we were young - shared interests, similar likes or dislikes, sports, a friend.... whatever.  But because of our age, or circumstances, or just who we were back then, it did not work out.  Either I broke up with you or you dumped me, or I moved 3000 miles away, it ended.  I would like to think that even though our relationship did not work, some of those things we had in common then still hold true today and because of it, we can be friends.

If this scares you more than comforts you, my apologies.  I will share just one more tidbit.  When I was in college, I met a guy my sophomore year.  We had instant chemistry and hit it off really well.  He was at a different school and so our paths were sometimes different.  Over the next 2 and half years, we would come together and drift apart several times, never really being at the right time or place in our lives at the same time to make it work, but we remained friends throughout.  When I moved to Los Angeles, his was one number that I kept on speed dial, and I called him more times than either of us could probably remember.  When he needed it, he leaned on me too.  Despite the distance, we continue to be friends to this day, and he was even in my wedding.  It is that friendship that I looked to as an example when I reached out to you - knowing that something had brought us together at the time, but because of "life," it did not work out.  Perhaps that underlying friendship is still there.  One can hope.  (And no, I don't consider myself someone who has "enough" friends - you never know when you might need another one.)

On a side note, there are guys in my past that I have no desire to ever speak to again.  Those were the ones that I would consider bad choices.  And no, I'm not saying that just because they were guys that broke up with me.  As far as most of them go, I walked away from those relationships, and am glad to have been rid of them.

I'm not sure this helps explain why I sent you that friend request (or text or email).  Maybe it is because somewhere inside of me, that lost kid is still wandering around, wanting to make sure that I've done something right, or wanting to make sure that even though it did not work for us, I am still a likable person and it really wasn't me, it was you, when we broke up.  But mostly, maybe it is because I remember the good times that we had, and I miss you as a friend.

My "Holiday" celebrations - a Letter to My Friends and Family

My Dear Friend,

      When you visited my house, you seemed confused as you looked from the mezuzah to the wreath on my door.  When you walked into our family room, your roaming eyes took in the countless Hanukiah on the table, then jumped across the room to the lights strung across the banister and the holiday tree sitting in front of it.  Then you saw the dining room table, decorated with crafts from the girls' preschool years and other Hanukkah gifts.  There were questions in your eyes and when the holiday music came on, I could see you wonder.  I'm sorry that my mixed-up, crazy way of celebrating the holidays has confused you, whether you are Jewish or not.  But I have my reasons.  Some of them might even be good ones.

As I gear up for the holidays this year, which seem to have snuck up on me, despite my best efforts to be prepared, I realize that the picture I present of the holidays to the outside world must be very confusing.  I am Jewish and I celebrate Hanukkah with my family.  But I was not born Jewish and my extended family still celebrates Christmas.  My mom has a tree and depending on where we are and what our holiday plans are, we sometimes have Christmas dinner with her, complete with gifts.

My house is decorated for Hanukkah, but that is where things get a bit muddy, because there are other "holiday" decorations there too.  To some, they might be considered "Christmas" decorations, and thus, the confusion, so I thought I'd try to clear a few things up.

As I mentioned, I was not born Jewish.  I was raised in a family that believed in G-d, and that went to a Bible church, with no particular denomination.  We celebrated Christmas and even went to services on Christmas Eve, but the holiday never held as much religious significance to me as it might to others.  We had a manger scene that we put out on top of the piano each year, and of course knew the story of the baby Jesus (and even did holiday pageants at church), but the day itself was usually about presents and food.

During my childhood and into my teen years, there were a few things that happened which made me question my connection to organized religion.  (Another blog post for another day.)  In college, I studied other religions (even Islam) and dated guys who were Catholic, even going to church with them.  Nothing seemed to fit quite right.  And then I found Judaism.  Many of my questions about G-d and Heaven and various other theological quandaries were answered, in a way that made sense to me.

While I was studying for my conversion, I was troubled by the idea of letting Christmas go.  I spoke with another woman who had converted many years before and asked her how she dealt with the "loss" of the holiday.  She told me that she thought about what it was that she liked so much about it and came up with the cooking and baking, singing carols and songs and giving gifts.  She realized that those were all things that she could continue to do, whether in her own home as part of her Hanukkah celebration, or with friends as part of their Christmas celebrations.

When I sat down and really thought about it, I came to the conclusion that my difficultly in letting it go was because of what the holiday represented to me.  Family.  My dad's family is huge and the holiday get-togethers were always large gatherings of aunts and uncles and cousins, crammed to the rafters at Grandma's house.  Christmas meant a big tree in the basement (that we would go out and cut down a few days before), piles of presents underneath and the smell of a ham cooking in the oven.  I can still hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the murmur of voices all around the house - with the occasion cackle of laughter from someone or other.

When I moved to LA, I was not able to get back home for as many holiday gatherings as I wanted to, so I started to collect things to connect me to those feelings.  I put together a Winnie the Pooh holiday village, to remind me of the snow and the lights.  I would get a tree and decorate it and put presents underneath for myself or friends.  And I would bake and play Christmas music from November to New Years.

I moved to LA 18 years ago and I converted 14 years ago.  In all of that time, I have continued to search for ways to make the holidays mine and to still pay homage (in a way) to my own memories of  the family that I do not get to see as often as I'd like (or that is no longer with us).

The Winnie the Pooh village sometimes makes an appearance.  Yes, the characters have holiday lights on their houses, and Christmas trees, but it is the characters that draw me in.  They remind me of several very close friends I had in college, who were there for me when I needed a family close by and who got me through some very difficult years of growing into an adult.

The little holiday tree in the corner is for my aunt.  She paints extraordinary ornaments and decorations, which happen to be of Santa, yes.  But the tree is for her.  I used to put them across my mantle, but have run out of room.  The little pre-lit tree is perfect, until I outgrow that. (She is still painting.)  I do not consider it a "Christmas" tree and having it does not make me any less Jewish.  (There are also a few Hanukkah items on the tree.)

There are menorahs.  Oh, are there menorahs.  (Or, more correctly, Hanukiah.)  I have the very first one that I bought, for just a few dollars, the first year I celebrated Hanukkah.  I have the Winnie the Pooh one that Ray and Ronnye bought me the first year I celebrated with Rob's family.  And the list goes on.  In addition to the ones we light, I now have several that the girls have made in preschool or Hebrew school, some that we can light and some we cannot.  But we display them every year.

Many of the decorations are for the girls.  They love looking at holiday lights around town and so a few years ago, I started putting holiday lights out in my yard and on my garage and bears holding a Happy Hanukkah sign.  There is a Tigger, too, that happens to have a Santa hat on, but like I said before, Winnie the Pooh and Tigger are a direct link to my college years and some very close friends.

My wish is not to confuse my friends and family or other visitors to our house.  I do not want them to wonder if I'm Jewish or not, or whether I celebrate both holidays- which at home, we do not.  The girls open presents each night of Hanukkah.  We do celebrate Christmas with my mom (this year, in Vegas) and Santa sometimes stops by with a little something for them wherever we might be. (This confuses B quite a bit, because the rest of the year, she is convinced that there is no Santa.)  But we are Jewish.

My decorations (both inside my home and out) are my own way to connect back to my childhood and to remember my family and to honor the memories I have.  I don't think it confuses my girls, because I explain to them the reasons why I do certain things or have things in the house.  They don't wonder about celebrating Christmas (although they do sometimes wonder how Santa gets into the hotel room in Vegas.)  For now, it works for us.  And, as it happens - so far this year, I haven't been able to get Pooh's village up and out.  B keeps asking where it is.  Maybe next year.

To all of my friends and family, no matter how you celebrate the holidays, I hope that it is a happy one for you and your family, and I hope that you all have a very Happy New Year.

No, You Can't Take Dance Class.

Why? Because I'm not giving up any more of my time.

That might sound like a harsh message, particularly when delivered to an 8 year old girl.  But considering how much I say "yes" to my daughter, it stands to reason that "no!" needs to work itself into some of the conversations.

This conversation started much like many others, with her asking about things that I used to do, as we were in the car with be driving her to Hebrew school on Sunday morning.  We were discussing classes I took a few years ago (dancing...of a sort) and she ended the interrogation with "Can I take dance classes?"

Simple answer: no.

Her dad and I have had this conversation with her several times.  At the tender age of 8, her schedule is already packed with various activities and adding one more thing would break the bank.  Gymnastics on Monday, voice lessons on Tuesday, and Hebrew school on Thursdays and Sunday.   Add to that my volleyball league on Monday nights, basketball league on Sundays, Rob's baseball league on Sundays and a myriad of evening meetings for networking, office things and Temple business.  Our schedule is packed to overflowing.

Some parents might look at this and suggest that we take a little less time for ourselves and give a little more for our daughter.  In a perfect world, that might be a viable suggestion.  But our world is anything but perfect, and the list above does not take into consideration that her dad and I both work full time and have another daughter in preschool.  It also doesn't include her at school after-school theater group (which she loves.)  I also draw from my own experiences, which were limited where extracurricular activities were concerned.  I heard the word "no!" more times than I ever care to count, which is perhaps why I say "yes" to my girls as often as I do.  But I also recognize the need to draw the line.  There is such a thing as "too much" for our kids and our kids do need to hear the word "no!", so that they develop a healthy understanding that life does not always hand them what they want.

Sidebar - we are currently dealing with this with our 4 year old, who flops herself down on the ground in tears whenever we say "no."  It does not matter what the question is, if the answer is "no," she throws a fit.  And throws whatever is in her hands.  Usually something solid.  And at me.

Back to the 8 year old - I would be happy to sign her up for dance, or whatever other extra activity she would want to try, if she gave something else up.  (In my mind, I am thinking that gymnastics is not long for her world - she is already incredibly tall for her age and by the time I hit 6th grade, I was too tall for the uneven bars.  She is definitely following in my footsteps on that one.)  However, I refuse to add one more thing to her schedule, if it means having to give up something of mine.

If you think I am being selfish, you are probably correct.  But I will not apologize for that.  My daughters need to see me doing things for myself, even if it means that they do not get to do something.  I want both of my girls to grow up to be strong, independent women, who value their own self worth.  In order to do that, they need to see me taking time for myself and taking time to do things that I like to do, even without them or their dad.  Sometimes, it is as simple as going to get my nails done, by myself.  The example they see is that it is o.k. to have things that you like to do, that no one else is involved in.  Yes, I can share those things with others (the girls like to come to my games and watch me play), but I am not there for them.  I am there for me.

I hope that both girls develop interests in things that they will continue to do into their 20s or 30s or 40s.  I hope that they recognize the value in holding on to some of those favorite things, and realize that sometimes it is o.k. to want to be alone or to do something by themselves.  I hope that they understand that they do not need to share everything with their spouse or mate, and that in keeping a bit of themselves, separate from the other person, they are making the relationship stronger.

Yes, that is a bit down the road. (O.k., hopefully a LONG way down the road.)  But I think that it starts now.  By seeing me or their dad maintain a little of our individuality, they understand that it is o.k. to take some time for themselves.  Then when it is time for them to have their own families, they won't feel guilty about it. Well, they might  feel a little guilty.  But that doesn't mean that they will say "yes" to the dance lessons.

Reflections - 13 years

I just got into the office, after the Patriot Day Celebration at B's school.  As I write this, I consider the word "celebration" and wonder if it is the appropriate word.  After all, with the day marking such a horrible and tragic event in our Nation's history, is it a celebration?  Commemoration?  Regardless of the word, we mark the day.

As I stood behind one of the kindergarten classes, I smiled at the "oohs" and "aahs" as they craned their necks skyward to watch the Boy Scout Troop raise the flag.  Their excited chatter over seeing the flag unfurl was charming and quite a contrast to the group of police officers, fireman and other enforcement officers standing to my right, tall and straight, arms raised in quiet salute.

If you think about it, none of the children at the school were alive in 2001. (B, born in 2005 is in 4th grade.  Assuming the 6th graders are 2 or 3 years older than her, they would have been born in 2002 or later.)  While so many of us know where we were on that particular day, our children wonder what this day is all about.

I remember this day in 2001, 13 years ago.  I was driving to my job "over the hill", from Canoga Park to Beverly Hills.  I had worked there just 4 months and was still learning my way around and getting to know the people I worked with.  I don't remember what time I got in my car, but as usual, I turned the radio to "Jamie and Danny" on Star 98 (or maybe it was still "Jaime, Frosty and Frank" at the time?) as I hit the road.  I clearly remember Jamie, close to tears and with a tremor in her voice, saying "we still don't know what really happened, but we want you to know that we love you guys."  She was talking to the listeners.  I switched the channel to Kevin & Bean, to find just Money and "Doc on the Roc" on, giving updates on the situation in New York.  I was stunned.  I don't remember much of what I heard on the radio over the course of my 45 minute drive, but I remember quietly crying and wondering what was next.  When I got to the office, my coworkers were quietly walking around, seemingly dazed.  Through huddled conversations with others, I learned that one of the partners had a daughter living in New York City and he had not been able to get in touch with her.  (He was finally able to reach her and she was fine.)  As it became apparent that no work would be done, the partners gave us the option of going home.  Wanting to be with other people, rather than alone in my apartment, I headed to Rob's parents' house in Northridge.  I spent the day on their couch, watching the news stations.

Over the next few weeks, the horror of what happened that day continued to unfold and the uncertainty of our future with it.  Would there be other attacks?  Should we begin to stockpile food and water?  Would our lives as we know it change drastically?  For us, life went back to much the same as it was before, albeit with a few more hugs, a few more "I love you!"s called as we walked out the door, and a bit more patriotism.  But for others, their lives were irreversibly changed, forever marked by this day.

Having walked near the footprints of those buildings just two months ago, I marvel at the strength of New York City and its people.  While I'm sure many continue their daily lives in quiet remembrance of a friend or family member lost, of the horrors of that day, the simple fact is that they continue their lives.  They have not let this day get the best of them.

When we note this day, we remember the lives lost, the victims and the heroes, the first responders and all who helped in some way, whether it was in New York, Washington DC or that field in Pennsylvania.  We remember the swell of patriotism and the renewed spirit of the Country.  We hope.  We hope for a time without worry of these types of attacks.  We hope to never have to experience anything like this again.  We hope that our children do not have to live through anything like that.  And we thank G-d.  For our lives, for our family, for our country.

My Turning 40 Bucket List

2  and a half years ago, my older sister turned 40.  Last year, my other sister turned 40.  Yes, as luck would have it, I'm next.  No dodging this one.  Back in 2012, I read a blog by a woman who was approaching her 39th birthday, and in celebration, she created a bucket list of 39 things that she would like to do before her 39th birthday.  Inspired by her list, I decided to create my own list, as I stared down the barrel of my own 40th birthday.

As I sat there, some 30-plus months ago, I struggled a bit.  What do I put on this list?  I wrote a few things down that I've long wanted to do, such as sky diving or bungee jumping, and then there was that violin of my grandfather's, sitting unused and in need of repair, to learn to play.  But many of the things on the other woman's list were things that I had already done - take a cruise to Europe, climb the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, swim in the waters of the Caribbean.  So what to do, what to do.

If you look back at some of my posts from 2012, you'll see that I worked on that list.  But I never did get to 40 things.  At one point, I amended it and tried to come up with 20 things to do before my 40th birthday.  I don't have that list in front of me, so I'm not sure what was on it, but I'm guessing I haven't hit many of those goals.  And here I sit, just a mere 23 days from the "BIG" day.

I've known that this day was coming.  Some people say that big birthdays "sneak up" on them, but there was no sneaking for me on this one.  As I said, with 2 older sisters, each a year older than the other, you know when things like this are around the corner.  Also, as one of the youngest members of my high school graduating class, and with the access that Facebook now gives us to one another's lives, I have watched many of my friends tackle the dreaded 4-0.  But perhaps it is not so "dreaded" as it once was?  Some of my friends have kids going off to college, or even having their own children, while others might still be looking for that Mr. or Ms. "Right."   Who is to say which of us is doing it right (or wrong) when it comes to aging?    When my Mom hit 40, she had a 20 year old (and a 19 and 18 year old too.)  I'm pretty sure I would not have been able to handle that timing myself.

But still, my list looms, almost mocking me as the date approaches.  My 30th was interesting - it fell on Yom Kippur, which meant an entire day of fasting, in celebration of my birthday.  I was worried that I would end up with a massive headache by the time the cake came around late that night.  This year, my day once again falls on a holiday - the first day of Rosh Hashana.  So while I won't be fasting on my birthday this year, I will be sitting in Temple for the day.  (And then catching a flight to Las Vegas, but I digress.)

Although I didn't complete my list as I had hoped to do, it was occasionally in the back of my mind as the pages of the calendar flipped by.  Then, a few months ago, I stumbled across something that made me laugh a bit and stopped me in my tracks.  Rob's grandmother passed away at the end of April.  While preparing what I wanted to say at her funeral, I went through several of my old journals to see if I had written down any stories about trips, or even something about when I met her.  In the midst of all of that, I came across a list I had made in April 2001, a mere 13 years ago.  The list was "Things I'd like to do before I'm 40" and it had the following:

- learn to play the violin
- write a song
- write a book
- compose music (at least one piece)
- take horseback riding lessons
- sing on stage in front of a crowd
- see Paris, London, Hawaii
- visit Poland - Auschwitz
- learn to read Torah
- blow the shofar at High Holidays
- sell candy and cookie baskets (even if its only one)
- make my t-shirt quilt
-decorate a wedding cake.

 I laughed a bit when I saw the list and marveled at how things had changed.  Where was I at in 2001, that my almost 27-year old self would create such a list?  I was not yet married, and not even engaged to be married.  I did not have children.  Rob and I had been dating for about 2 and a half years and I had been a practicing attorney for almost 2.  Life certainly looked different.

My 2001 list kind of put my 2013-2014 list into perspective.  The things that I looked forward to doing then, in anticipation of a birthday then 13 years away were somewhat different, based on my life experiences to that point.  How did I fare on that list?  Well, there are a few things I can absolutely cross off, such as blowing shofar at High Holidays (although having done it for many years now, I'm not sure why I ever wanted to do that, haha), and seeing Paris and London and Hawaii (actually, all of them at least twice!).   A few others, I can cross off because while I did not accomplish them specifically as written, I think I've accomplished the spirit of what I was thinking at the time.  For example, over the past few years, I have sold several crafty-type gift baskets at holiday boutiques and fairs.  That counts.  Also, while I have not decorated a wedding cake, I've done several birthday cakes for my girls (some with several layers) and also did birthday cakes for Grandma Trudy (some of several layers.)  That counts too.

The t-shirt quilt still sits in a box in my spare room, waiting to be put together.  I've learned to read a bit of Hebrew and can follow along in the prayer book, but can't chat Torah.  I got my grandfather's violin refurbished and restrung but have not taken any lessons to learn to play it.   I attended a birthday party with K and rode a horse around the ring with her in front of me, but have not taken any lessons.  I've written countless chapters of novels in my head, but have not gotten them down into a book.  And I've had several dreams where a song gets stuck in my head and I tell myself to remember it, only to wake up and have it disappear into thin air.  These are the things on my list.

When I look back at those wishes, I see that they are a bit more "down to earth" than my current bucket list.  I still want to sky dive and I'd still like to bungee jump, but at the same time, I have other things I'd like to do, such as plan a few Bat Mitzvahs for 2 little munchkins I call my own.  I'd still like to see Poland, but I'd also like to see the world through my girls eyes.  (Having seen Paris with B when she was 3 and a half, I can't wait to see more of the world with them.  Her story about the Eiffel Tower and L'Arc de Triumphe giving hugs was just too cute!)

So my lists remain.  I've got my "old" list, that my 27 year old self made, from 2001 that I'm still working on and I've got those few things that my 38 year old self added to my "new" list.  Even if I don't get to cross any of them off in the next 23 days, I'll keep at it.  Who says that 40 has to be "old" or that I have to accomplish any of those things before then?  After all, age is just a number, right?  Bring it on, 40, bring it on.

You did WHAT!?! - Parenting Dilemma

I wrote this last month and for some reason did not publish it.  Here you go.

A few days ago, I did something I swore to myself I would never do.  I took money from one of my children.

When I was little, my sisters and I each had a silver barrel piggy bank.  Every Christmas and birthday, we would usually get one or two crisp new dollar bills from an aunt, and at other times a few quarters here and there from the Tooth Fairy.  We would carefully "hide" our money away in our piggy banks, perched on top of the old piano by the furnace grate.  I say "hide" because the money was not truly hidden, and everyone knew where to find our piggy banks.  Each time we got something to add to it, we would clean it out and count our loot, carefully stacking the bills and organizing the coins before putting it all back.

Our family was not well off.  By today's standards, we were probably lower class, not even scraping the bottom of lower-middle-class.  My dad worked hard, driving a rig for Pennzoil and my mom alternated between staying at home with us, when they could afford it, and working when they couldn't, running a fabric store and later as a secretary in a real estate office.

We lived on a farm and grew vegetables all summer to eat in the winter and while we never lacked for the necessities of life, there were quite a few things that we wanted, but never got.  (I still wonder what Santa did with that Barbie's Dream House that was on my list for years.). In my mind, the money in my piggy bank was mine, to do with what I wanted.  I don't remember anything specific now, but I'm sure at the time I had grand plans for how that money would be spent.

Such dreams went put the window in the cold light of reality, as dreams sometimes do.  I distinctly remember one night at home, when Dad asked where our piggy banks were.  (A rhetorical question, we were sure, since they were in plain sight where they had always been.). His response to our reply was to ask that we bring them to him.  Several minutes later he had taken a few dollars from each of us and returned the banks to their spots.  Several minutes after that, he left to go to the store.

The details of what else was said in response to our protests or mom's reaction are lost to time.  I do remember how, at first, we thought he was joking, only to realize he was not when he left the house and our money was not returned.  I vaguely recall being told that the money was needed to buy milk and bread, and only now wonder if he used it to buy cigarettes as well.  There is certainly no way to know.  But I distinctly remember how I felt when he took that money, and I remember telling myself that I would never do the same thing to my own kids.

As I sit here now, an adult with children of my own and responsibilities, I certainly understand the pressures of parenthood.  I can appreciate the worry when the bills come and add up to more than the last paycheck.  I appreciate it even more now that I own my own business and have to pay everyone else first.  What if there just isn't enough to go around?  What do you do?

The girls have savings accounts, both with some money given to them for birthdays and holidays.  I only half jokingly tell them that they have more money in the bank than I do.  They don't really have a concept that it is there, or how much there is, and it has always generally been an unspoken agreement between Rob and I that their money would be theirs for a car or college or something they wanted when they got older.  That money has always been figuratively untouchable.  I don't consider it when I look at our balances and I never thought I would consider it when it came time to pay bills.  Until Monday.

I mentioned before, one of the struggles of owing your own business is paying everyone else first.  This becomes more of a struggle when your clients don't pay you in a timely way and you end up juggling your business responsibilities and your personal ones.  This time, with no way to avoid either, I made a tough decision to dip into the untouchable well.

I still cringe when I think of it, but at the same time, I do not think there is anything "wrong" in what I did.  I used some of one of the girls' money to pay a bill.  I did not use it to buy clothes or go out for drinks or dinner.  I used it to pay a bill that was going past due and had no other way.  Part of me thinks "there is always another way." At the same time, the defensive part of me thinks that I have purchased so much for them over the years -books, toys, trips to Disneyland and everywhere else- that are "extras", that this washes out in the end.  I can't decide which side I ultimately fall on, especially since I know how it feels and swore I'd never do that.

One slight difference between my piggy bank story and this one - my dad took the cash from my bank, right in front of me.  I borrowed money from my child without her knowing it.  It doesn't change the basic event, but I think it does make a difference in how it is perceived.  She has money -cash- in her wallet.  I think if I had taken that, particularly while she was looking, it would have been more difficult.  Is it easier on me because she likely will never know it is gone?

I am hopeful that when my clients pay me what is owed, I can pay the rest of this months' bills and pay back the money we borrowed from the kids.  I am also hopeful that monthly cash flow rights itself well enough that I won't have to struggle with this dilemma again.  It seems strange and slightly odd to me that I would have to borrow money from my child.  Then again, when you consider all of the things I have bought for them "just because" (aside from food, clothes and a roof over their heads), maybe a little "give and take" in that department isn't so strange after all.

But that doesn't mean I don't still feel guilty.