I handle jet lag well upon arrival in the US. We function during the day, despite waking up at 3 am for several days. By the second morning the kids already woke at 7:30. The return is different. Typically we are all awake at night the first week, then I suffer for an additional week. It's not just the jetlag; it's having to jump back into the summer "routine." I find myself not remembering things that happened during that first week at home. And my husband complains about "secondary jet lag" from everyone else's night-wakings.
We arrived yesterday afternoon. My 7yo then slept all night, getting up in time for my husband to take him to camp. Go figure. My 4yo slept for a while then lay quietly with her head on my lap during the wee hours, and then slept again from 4am to 1:00 PM. I slept only from 6:30 to 10:30 am.
I am determined to beat the jet lag this time. I have to order school books, prepare sheva brachot, and plan a vacation, while keeping the house running with everyone home all day. I read that when fatigue hits, one should drink coffee and take a nap until the caffeine kicks in. I plan to try this approach, but am open to other suggestions.
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Thursday, July 31, 2008
Jet lag and secondary jet lag
Fasting on Tisha B'Av for pregnant and breastfeeding women
The 9th of the Jewish month of Av, known as Tisha B'Av, commemorates the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. On this most mournful day of the year, Jews are required to fast from sunset until nightfall the following day (August 9-10, 2008).
(On a side note, most rabbinic opinions exempt pregnant and nursing women from fasting on the four minor fast days. My husband was surprised to learn that his colleague's wife, nursing a young baby, was fasting on the 17th of Tammuz.)
Click here to continue reading.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Adventures in International Travel -- Packing Light
Robin, this is for you. In my previous post I mentioned having brought one suitcase for our two-week trip to New York. It weighed 21 kg (about 45 lbs) and contained everything for the four of us, in addition to our hand luggage (also as light as possible).
I knew I would be staying at my sister's and brother's homes. They have washing machines, so pajamas, 3-4 days worth of lightweight clothes, and Shabbat outfits (two each), sufficed. I added bathing suits and swim floats, and a duffel bag for the return trip. I didn't shlep toothpaste or shampoo, umbrellas or jackets. My daughter and I each took one additional pair of shoes; the younger children took none. In an emergency, we could easily buy something. And I didn't even end up wearing everything. Two booster seats and a stroller were a royal pain but didn't count in the weight.
Another reason to pack light is to save room for the return. Besides books for the children and the book club, the seats and the stroller, I'm taking a guitar for my son and an air mattress--we hope to try camping again.
(Mis)Adventures in International Travel, Part I: An unexpected stop
The woman ahead of us in line for luggage inspection at Ben Gurion Airport was taking a long time. A man from a second line that fed into ours, who had arrived long after us, made his way to the front and tried to get his items through. I told him that we were next. He replied that he had paid triple for business class and was entitled to go first. I responded that El Al should be the one to decide, but let it go. The woman behind me, who had an earlier flight, confronted him in an Italian accent. Finally a supervisor noticed his aggressive behavior and came over. The only words I caught from their conversation were, "I am the ganenet and I say . . ." So much for business class privileges.
Afterward I went to check in. I saw an express check-in line with two bored ticket agents, and asked whether we could check in there. "No, this is only for passengers who printed out their boarding passes." Well, I had the boarding passes--I was so proud of myself. They complimented me on taking only one suitcase, weighing 21 kilograms, for four people.
The plane left only half an hour late, early by El Al standards. What a difference a year makes, when it comes to travelling with small children. My 4-year-old sat quietly when she wasn't sleeping. Last year I walked around with her much of the time.
About an hour in, there was an ominous announcement from the public address system: "If there is a doctor on the plane, please identify yourself to a crew member." Later I saw a doctor in the aisle treating the patient. Instead of being anxious to get to New York, I found myself hoping that they would stop and take her to the hospital. A stewardess told me that they had sent her vital statistics to Israel, and had been advised to keep flying. But then we got the announcement about an unscheduled stop in Shannon, Ireland, to take the passenger to the hospital. They said she had had a heart attack.
A doctor and paramedics boarded the plane in Shannon. After interviewing the Israeli doctor and examining the patient, the doctors stood in the aisle next to me while the paramedics removed her from the plane. "This is going to be the hardest part," the Irish doctor informed us. "These aisles are narrow. We used to remove passengers when the Concord stopped through here, where the aisles are even narrower." He told the Israeli doctor that El Al ought to give him a first-class seat for the rest of the flight. We all chuckled. I asked the Israeli doctor his specialty; he is a heart surgeon.
Shannon is a small town, but the quiet airport with wide runways, near the Atlantic coast, is a frequent stopping point for flights with ill passengers. Patients are then brought to the hospital in nearby Limerick. Crowded Heathrow had refused to let our flight land. A crew member disembarked with the patient, who seemed alert and in good spirits. The doctor confirmed that she should be fine.
Then we waited. The doctor had said that her luggage would have to be removed from the hold for security reasons. I don't know if it was, but by the time we took off our arrival had been delayed by over three hours. My sister had planned to meet us, but I wasn't sure that extended to a 3am arrival time. When we landed I called her cell phone to no reply. I figured that if she didn't come we would hang around until a normal hour. But she was there waiting for us. My experience raising a large without my extended family makes me truly appreciate my siblings. Who else would pick me up from the airport in the middle of the night?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The "Cringe" Factor
In response to my post on the Modiin Mall story, Frumhouse described how she has handled nursing in public. Therapy Doc left the following comment: The problem is the cringe factor, and ignoring that is ignoring anything that makes people cringe. If you know you're making someone cringe, whaddaya do? Make 'em suffer? Hit 'em over the head with your ideas? Or move away. You can say that
nobody's forcing anyone to watch, but face it, the baby's the draw. Maybe a sign over the breast that says, Look away if this (arrow down) makes you uncomfortable?
My response to TD got too long, so I decided to post it here.
It disturbs me to see nursing associated with "hitting someone over the head" or causing suffering. Breastfeeding is a fundamentally nurturing activity. The comment implies that nursing a baby in public is some kind of political statement. While unfortunately this attitude contains a grain of truth in today's culture, it's beside the point.
Frankly, it *is* easier for the "cringer" to look or move away. A nursing mother isn't a pariah and shouldn't have to act like one.
For some women, having to put the discomfort of others above the needs of their own babies will be enough to cause them to reconsider nursing altogether. One mother told me, "My older child nursed every three hours, so I could complete errands in time to feed him. But my second has an irregular schedule, so we stopped nursing after a few weeks." Let us make no mistake. The fuss over nursing in public harms mothers and babies.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Links on tzniut, teenage maturity, nursing in public
Coming soon to this blog, bli neder: (Mis)adventures in International Travel.
In the meantime:
Have you ever felt untzniusdik when wearing a stunning Shabbat or Yom Tov outfit on the street? Wolfish Musings and Parsha Blog have the solution.
Follow-up (Hebrew) to the Modiin Azrieli Mall "nursing in public" fiasco. The management changed its policy and claims to be reeducating staff on the subject. I don't know why the article mentions that the mother making the complaint was religious. Hat tip: Nursing in the Negev.
Can you spot a nursing mother in this picture?
Lion of Zion refers to my post on the jailed teenagers, in the context of early marriage among Jews. He writes, "As an aside, I would like to know where all the Israeli/Jewish human rights advocates were while the (minor) settlerettes sat in jail." I believe that Yitzchak Kadman, Israel's best-known child advocate, did speak out on the subject at the time.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
What they were really thinking
This is why it pays to follow comments:
From the post about nursing in public:
Several years ago, shortly after boarding a domestic flight in the US, I began to nurse my son. I was sitting in a middle seat next to my husband (who was sitting in the aisle seat), and while I was being discreet (nothing "unusual" on display), it was pretty obvious that I was nursing.
People were still boarding, and there was one middle-aged guy who not only stared at me while he walked past, but also whispered something into the ear of his female companion, and she began to stare as well. I stared straight back, and to this day, I'm still sorry that I didn't actually say something out loud to embarrass him.
Liza R: What he whispered was "wow, I wonder why you always had to undress to nurse and she can just do it all nice and neat?"
And the wife stared to see if she could figure it out.
Feel better now?
Sweet Shabbat in Jerusalem
These are my youngest children, upon our return from Shabbat in Jerusalem. We hoped for a bit of touring but had just enough time to get to the Kotel Friday afternoon. At night we ate at one brother-in-law and his young family. In the morning we walked from Katamon (Srugim territory) to Baka for our friends' son's Bar Mitzvah. After lunch, my friend invited us to her house. Since I didn't want to walk back in the midday sun, I stayed with the younger kids while my husband and eldest son went back to sleep. Her invitation ties into a discussion I had last week about the obligations of hosts of smachot like weddings and bar mitzvahs to pay attention to their guests. My friend certainly fulfilled this one, both at shul and afterward. We talked semi-privately for several hours while the kids played with the family's amazing assortment of games. Mazal tov to E. and family on the Bar Mitzvah--he's a terrific kid!
The shul had a program for preschoolers. My 12-year-old son was with my youngest, but called me to take over so he could go into shul; my daughter didn't want to stay by herself. After a while he came back and offered to take over during the drasha. After confirming that he wished to return for mussaf, I told him I would stay with her. I missed the end of shul but since I sat from barchu through the bar-mitzvah boy's clear and confident rendition of the parsha and haftara, I can't complain. Before going back up my son offered me some of the Hershey's chocolate he had collected from the candy-throwing. (I still have some; don't tell my kids.) Now that's what I call kibud em (honoring your mother).
My husband picked us up at around 5 (he didn't mind all the walking) and we stopped by an old friend, who sat with us in a park and walked us back to where we were staying. My 4yo napped in my husband's arms most of the way. When we arrived I was too tired even to walk up the stairs, so I waited on a bench until we walked back to brother-in-law 2 for seudah shlishit.
Brother-in-law 1's apartment was spacious and accommodating. His landlords live in the US and only use it for vacations. We appreciate the fact that both of the brothers are renting in such a great location and seemed happy for us to "invade" for Shabbat. And I haven't mentioned the other old friends we met in shul and over meals.
The air was pleasant, the neighborhoods are charming, and the view of the bridge at night, as we approached the exit from Jerusalem, is breathtaking. I foced myself to remember the pleasures of winter in the Tel Aviv area. . . .
Check out Haveil Havalim #175 over here.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Modiin mom told to nurse in the changing room
Yiska visited a mall in Modiin with her young baby. Here is her story:
I was at the mall this morning with my 3-week-old daughter. While modestly nursing her, a security guard approached me and told me I shouldn't nurse in public, and that there is a changing room which I should use, "so everyone will feel more comfortable." I nodded and said OK, and just left it at that.In January I heard a lecture on breastfeeding rights in Israel, by a lawyer who had researched the subject. She said that unlike in most US states, no Israeli law protects breastfeeding mothers. Assuming the mall is privately owned, the management is within its rights to ask a mother to leave the premises.
An hour later, in a different spot, the same thing happened. This time it was one of the cleaning men. I told him I was perfectly comfortable where I was.
It seems to me they were told by the management to ask women not to nurse in public.
It's pretty ridiculous. It's fine for women to walk around half naked, but feeding your child modestly is unacceptable.
---------I haven't heard from the management yet, so I'm not sure that this is the mall's policy, it just sounded like it.
The lawyer stressed that in order to be effective, laws should not relate to issues of obscenity or sex discrimination. In Ohio, a breastfeeding mother sued Wal-Mart for sex discrimination and lost. The judge ruled that there was no sex discrimination because if a man were breastfeeding, he would also be asked to leave:
Title VII forbids gender discrimination in employment, but gender discrimination by definition consists of favoring men while disadvantaging women or vice versa. The drawing of distinctions among persons of one gender on the basis of criteria that are immaterial to the other, while in given cases perhaps deplorable, is not the sort of behavior covered by Title VII.As for obscenity, there is no connection between the two. And we don't want the courts deciding how much breast can be visible. When laws on public breastfeeding come up for debate in state legislatures, formula companies have been known to lobby for including a clause about nursing "discreetly" or limiting the age of the nursing baby. This opens up a can of worms and sends a negative message about breastfeeding.
The lawyer explained that supporting nursing in public for health reasons also creates a risk. The medical profession promotes breastfeeding, yet you still find doctors who argue that the differences between breastfeeding and bottle-feeding are insignificant. If the pendulum were to swing back in favor of formula, we would want the rights of breastfeeding mothers and babies to remain protected.
The lawyer insisted that any discussion of public breastfeeding must hinge on the right of the nursing mother to participate fully in society. You can read more of my views on this matter in my post "Nursing in the Ezrat Nashim."
I don't understand why an Israeli mall would harass breastfeeding mothers. Such mothers tend to be more affluent, and have more disposable income from money saved on formula and bottles. They have more time to spend in the mall because they don't have to shlep formula or worry that it will spoil. And Israelis don't bat an eye when they see a nursing mother. In my experience, they're more likely to compliment her.
I think the mall thought that if they had a room for mothers and babies, nursing mothers would naturally want to sit there. This is despite the fact that they call it a changing room and not a nursing room--do you really want to watch everyone changing diapers while your baby is eating? Breastfeeding rooms are great for mothers who want rest or privacy, but they send a subtle message that breastfeeding mothers should stay out of sight. I see women breastfeeding in public every time I visit my local mall, despite the existence of a nursing/changing room.
Notice that Yiska's three-week-old baby needed to nurse twice within an hour. That's a lot of time for someone to spend in the changing room. What if a woman comes with her husband or friend? Are they supposed to wait for her outside? It's time to stop equating nursing with going to the bathroom.
The mall might be concerned about their haredi clientele, which is ironic because haredi women nurse too. And as Yiska implied, the mall doesn't have a dress code, so there are more "offensive" sights than a nursing mother sitting on a bench. If a haredi clientele is the issue, I wonder whether the mall limits provocative advertising.
I hope the management in Modiin will wise up and allow Israeli mothers to shop freely with their nursing babies.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Never mind, then
First some links: Check out Haveil Havalim 171, Haveil Havalim 172, and KCC 31.
A large day camp also attended the zoo today. A camper, who appeared to be about seven, began throwing water bottles into the bird lake. Another camper pointed this out to the counselor. "Wait!" she called. "Is that my bottle?," and proceeded to examine it. "Oh, it's not mine," she decided, and returned it to the camper. Who promptly threw it into the water. . . .
Things I might be posting about, if I felt like blogging
Our cooperative summer camp adventure continues. Based on past experience (read: lots of fighting), we split the boys and girls. We have five boys aged 5-8, with two 12- and 13-year-olds serving as counselors. I hosted them last Friday while my 12-year-old A ran the whole program. The girls' group consists of 4 preschoolers and 7 elementary-school-age girls. They exempted me from hosting the girls, since my 14-year-old (DiI) helps out several days a week. The other two days she has a regular babysitting job for two little boys who adore her. I have been getting positive feedback from the mothers about my kids. I needed it.
Some of the camp mothers live about a mile away, but my four-year-old walks back and forth with a minimum of complaint. When we met to make up a schedule, we asked not to give out junk food. Some mothers complained, "What will we give them if not Bamba?" We suggested melon. The children bring sandwiches; surely that's enough food for four hours. The junk-food rule hasn't been strictly enforced, but who can say what would have happened otherwise.
A disadvantage of segregating by sex is that activities tend to fall along gender lines. Yesterday the boys made models of an army camp and the girls baked cookies with red jelly. Today both groups went to the zoo and my junior counselors stayed up till all hours preparing games and crafts.
We are leaving on our annual trip to the US next week; camp may or may not be active when we return. My 4yo loved our visit last year, but now she doesn't want to miss camp. She said I should go without her and bring back special (flavored) yogurt, a treat we rarely buy. I'm taking her, DiI, and my 7-year-old.
Last night we went to a memorial service for a convert to Judaism who had made aliyah and died eight months later after collapsing in the street from a blood clot. The body sat for a month while her fate was decided; eventually her mother insisted on a Christian burial in the US. I had only spoken to her once on the phone, but we wanted to show support, and we met a family from Maale Adumim who had been exceptionally close to her. The family described how every Shabbat between her death and burial, mysterious things happened in their house: Crockery fell off shelves, and candles fell down, for no apparent reason.
I met with two bloggers in one day. I sat with RivkA for a Coffee and Chemo date, and while in Jerusalem I hopped over to Leora's hotel to say hello. We have several mutual friends and I am sure I have met her, but it was my first time seeing her adorable children. By then I was already anxious to get home, because the bus in the morning had taken me three hours. When we were renting our first apartment in Israel, I asked my husband how far we would be from the bus to Jerusalem and he said five minutes. He must have misheard me. It's a twenty-minute ride, and the inter-city bus took forever to arrive. It was too crowded so I waited a short time for the next one. Then we ran into traffic, and the bus to the hospital also took ages. Then I ran around the hospital looking for RivkA, because the oncology ward told me she was in the ER. I eventually found her back in oncology. Even though she was having a long, hard day she was in good spirits and we had fun catching up. She even came up with some shidduch suggestions.
Speaking of sponja: One evening I noticed a puddle, which turned out to be coming from under my neighbors' door. The neighbors are out of the country and their army-aged son was in Jerusalem, but a neighbor had a key so after turning off the water and closing off the source of the leak, we used several squeejees to sweep all of the water into the shower drain--in our apartment. It was a family effort. Their water purifier had cracked open, but the neighbor was still sure it must be the ozeret's fault. The son told me that the only damage was to their rug. If this had happened in the middle of the night, we might have been the ones with the serious damage.
We are going to a bar mitzvah for Shabbat, and staying in my single brother-in-law's apartment. When I heard his voicemail message asking to tell him some good news, I informed him of our upcoming visit. He took it in stride, or at least he had recovered by the time he called us back. Two of the kids chose not to go, but my oldest son feels close enough to the family to drag himself away from yeshiva for two weeks in a row.
My seven-year-old inserted our rechargeable camera battery backwards. It slid in easily, but wouldn't come out. The repairman removed it without taking the whole thing apart, after giving me a lecture about letting my kid play with it. I didn't tell him about the movie that could only have been filmed from a few inches outside of my sixth-story window; my seven-year-old was three or four at the time. Instead I told him that it wasn't nice to lecture customers. He didn't charge and even advised me on how to fix a different problem with the camera.
