War in Gaza: Report from the Home Front

Some bloggers thrive on war news. They excel at live blogging, or explaining Israel's point of view to the world at large. Neither approach works for me, as I avoid political discussions and have no inside information. And since my town is not directly affected, I find it difficult to write about the home-front situation. But here is my contribution.

I found out about the operation Shabbat afternoon, from a neighbor whose son is an officer. He was in training exercises all day Friday, and was ordered to appear at the airport on Shabbat at 3PM. The family had to make arrangements for someone else to pick up the car after Shabbat. During lunch he took calls from his soldiers, who apologized profusely for calling on Shabbat. When his mother asked whether he'd be coming home this weekend, he said it wasn't likely.

I've spoken to a couple of friends who are in the range of the rockets, including one who has been experiencing kassam rockets from Gaza over the years. Now, she hears our attacks in Gaza. She is relieved that action is being taken, but there is an additional emotional toll. "Hannah," she said, "You have no idea what one of those explosions sounds like. Even when you know it's your side, your heart just flips over."

My son in yeshiva is also in rocket range, and has had to go into a shelter a couple of times. He's pretty blase about the whole thing so I guess I will be too, at least on his behalf.

If you'd like to help, Treppenwitz provided a list of worthy medical organizations. In addition, I've been getting updates about the action in the south from Connections Israel. Here is one of the recent emails:

Operation Cast Lead, Israel's response to almost eight years of unending rocket attacks in Sderot and its surrounding environs, is in full gear. We must remember what effect this situation has on residents of the south.

Chanukah vacation, which was spent predominantly indoors, has now moved into bomb shelters for the foreseeable future; shopping malls are forbidden to open; schools are closed indefinitely.

The sounding of the Code Red alert now screams through additional communities on a constant basis, followed by loud booms, smoke and fire.

Children and adults, who have tolerated this situation for so long are at their wits end. Being cooped up in small spaces drains everyone of their coping abilities and adds new levels of stress.

If your relative or friend were living under these circumstances, you certainly would spare no expense to get them some relief. Kol Yisrael Achim - we are all brothers. Help us give our brothers some respite from their living conditions.

Operation Take-a-Break is underway. We are sponsoring full day respite trips for the residents of the south. Bus loads of individuals will be given a "day off" to engage in relaxing, fun and age appropriate activities out of the line of fire. Each bus costs $500. In other words, for just $10 you can make a real difference in the life of an individual. Better yet, sponsor an entire bus and spare a community!

To donate visit Connections Israel, and subscribe to updates here.

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Did we kill the plants already?

The day after I posted about our container garden, our friend Maier warned us about using recycled water. Some "gray" water is safe for the garden, but not all. I found this Australian government website containing the following guidelines:

‘Black water’ is water that has come in contact with toilet wastes. Black water has to be chemically treated and disinfected before it can be reused. General cautions include:

* Never use water that has come in contact with the toilet, or any other toileting fixture such as a bidet or urinal.
* Don’t use water that has been used to wash soiled nappies - this is also considered black water.
* Don’t reuse the water when you wash domestic pets, because of the high level of bacterial contamination.
* Don’t use grey water from the kitchen, as this can be contaminated with grease, bacteria and chemicals.

Common contaminants in grey water
If it is not used properly, grey water can make the householders ill and kill off the plants you are trying to care for. Some of the common contaminants in grey water include:
* Salts
* Food materials

* Household detergents, soaps and chemicals
* Bacteria and other disease-causing microbes.

Health risk comparison:
The health risks to you and your family depend on how you use grey water. Examples include:
* Laundry rinse water is low risk, while grey water from the kitchen is high risk.
* Sub-surface irrigation pipes are low risk, while hosing the garden with grey water is high risk.
* Using grey water on ornamental plants is low risk, while using it on vegetable gardens is high risk.

I'm not sure why laundry detergent is considered less of a problem than dishwashing detergent. If you plan to use gray water for plants I recommend reading all of the guidelines at the site.

When I told my son not to water with kitchen water, he was distraught. "You mean we killed them already?" He needn't worry, as the first pea plant has sprouted.

Speaking of the environment, a revised version of my post on traffic circles appeared at the environmental blog Green Prophet.

Discussion on my other guest posts is still going strong over at Orthonomics and Crunchy Domestic Goddess.

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Our Israeli Container Garden

The second floor of our apartment has a large, sunny porch. At one point we had a thriving herb garden, which now contains only a geranium, some sad-looking rosemary, and a miniature citrus tree. I am gratified that the tree survived long enough for us to enjoy the single kumquat, since we couldn't eat the fruit until the fourth year of neta revai (see the fourth paragraph here for more explanation). That tree came close to dying more than once.

After picking the kumquat we had to let it be hefker, or ownerless, because it had kedushat shvi'it, the holiness of the sabbatical year. (All fruit from trees that bloomed after last Tu beShevat have this status). We had to leave it in a place where others could take it if they liked. We put it out in our living room with a sign, and, when we remembered, pointed it out to visitors. No one took it, but the kumquat got slightly smushed. We should have another chance soon.

A, age 12, has been nudging me to start planting again. Since he had a day off from school yesterday, we went into town and bought seven bags of seeds: Shallots, thyme, "baby mix" (even though the storekeeper said he didn't have any lettuce), garden peas, basil, sage, and broccoli. Mimi donated a package of chamomile.

At home we collected the old pots and soil from the dead plants, saving the dried branches and leaves for compost. In a large bowl, A mixed the soil with dried compost from two years ago (another project we need to revive). He placed broken china into the bottom of the pots so that the roots wouldn't sit in water, and refilled the pots. He swept up the dirt and called me to help decide which seeds to plant in each pot. The two smaller children helped with the planting. Then A labelled the pots.

We placed the containers in a partially shaded spot to minimize evaporation, since the forecast is for another hot and dry week. I wonder if we should bring them inside until they sprout.

I am resolved to use only recycled water for this garden. The challenge is to collect the water and get it up to the second floor. I placed a dishpan in the kitchen sink to collect used water, and poured it through a strainer into a bucket. Straining the water might not be necessary as small amounts of vegetable matter can only help the plants.

My husband and I think that we can also use recycled water for the first cycle of the washing machine.

I would like to hear readers' suggestions about container gardening and conserving water. Fern's blog, Life on the Balcony, is an excellent resource for container gardeners.

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Happy clouds, or She has her priorities straight

Location: The park on the way home from school.

Me (singing): . . . I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee . . .
Four-year-old (laughing): You have clouds in your coffee?
Me: Not me, the woman in the song. It means she's sad.
The two children draw blank looks.
Me: Do you like it when it's sunny outside? Does it make you happy?
7-year-old: It depends how sunny. Not when it's really sunny.
Me: Well, in the United States, where the singer lives, they don't have as many sunny days as we do, and it's not as hot. So they are happy when it's sunny, but clouds make them sad. Here we have lots of hot sunny days, so we are happy when it gets cloudy and rains.
7yo: Especially this year, when we need rain so much.
4yo: Clouds make me happy.

Municipal Elections: Update

You don't need to register in order to vote in Israel--you just need to bring your teudat zehut (identity card) to the voting location. Usually, we get a notice listing the location and precinct number. So far we haven't, so I called the number of the Interior Ministry listed in the AACI newsletter.

Call 1-800-300059, press #5 for English and have your teudat zehut number available.

You have to type in your number, and they give you the information. It even offered to find out whether the location was handicapped accessible. I also confirmed that my 18-year-old son was listed. He told me who he is voting for, but I can't tell you since he asked me not to write about him.

Update: 17-year-olds are also eligible to vote.

Reading the "Little House" books

I've been reading the Little House series of books to my seven-year-old son Y. He loves them, even the rather slow descriptions of the prairie landscape in The House on Plum Creek.

I remember a discussion on a Jewish blog about whether the description of killing and cooking a pig in the first book, Little House in the Big Woods, was appropriate for Jewish children. I felt comfortable explaining to Y. that Laura's family is not Jewish so they eat pork. Learning about how they prepared it is educational, if a bit disgusting (which is fine). The only part I've skipped so far (besides the entire second book, Little House on the Prairie, because I don't have a copy) is the discussion about Santa Claus and how he represents the generosity in all of us, etc. When the Ingalls family goes to church for the first time I got a little nervous, but Reverend Alden just "talks to God" with no mention of Jesus.

I handled the lengthy discussions about Christmas by saying that the Jews have fun holidays throughout the year, but the Christians wait all year long for their one big celebration. Even back then Christmas seemed to be mainly about the gifts.

Even if we skip the parts that are blatantly Christian, by exposing our children to secular literature we are also exposing them to a secular/Christian lifestyle/outlook or what have you. So unless you plan to allow only "frum" books in your house that is an ongoing concern. Then you have to worry about not having exposed your children to good writing.

The Little House books are good mussar about making do with a little bit. The girls share a reader by holding up pages in the middle; Laura starts from the beginning while Mary looks at the more advanced material. My son was intrigued when Laura and Mary get money from their parents for a new slate, but realize they don't have enough for a pencil until they remember their Christmas pennies from a couple of years back. They decide to spend Mary's penny on the pencil, and Mary will own half of Laura's penny. My son and I discussed why they didn't just buy two pencils. Pencils aren't really a luxury. But slates were, and they only had one of those. So another pencil would have been superfluous.

We're about to get to my favorite scene in the entire series, from the chapter "Grasshoppers Walking" in On the Banks of Plum Creek. Here's an excerpt:

...Across the dooryard the grasshoppers were walking shoulder to shoulder and end to end, so crowded that the ground seemed to be moving ...

...Grasshoppers were walking over Carrie. They came pouring in the east window, side-by-side, end-to-end, across the window sill and down the wall and over the floor.

...That whole daylong the grasshoppers walked west. All the next day they went on walking west. And on the third day they walked without stopping.

...They walked steadily over the house. They walked over the stable. They walked over Spot until Pa shut her in the stable. They walked into Plum Creek and drowned, and those behind kept on walking in and drowning until the dead grasshoppers choked the creek and filled the water and live grasshoppers walked across them.

...The fourth day came and the grasshoppers went on walking. The sun shone hotter than ever, with a terribly bright light. It was nearly noon when Pa came from the stable shouting: “Caroline! Caroline! Look out doors! The grasshoppers are flying.”

I found the excerpt in an article by researcher Charles R. Bomar about the extinction of these locusts: This represented the last stand of the Rocky Mountain Locust on the Great Plains, and no major swarms were recorded again in the Great Plains. The last specimens collected were recorded from southern Canada in 1902.

Reading through the series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, we can see how the self-sufficient lifestyle represented in Little House in the Big Woods also becomes extinct, as Laura's family becomes more prosperous yet more dependent on credit, hard currency, and store-bought goods.

Every family needs at least one

My son, A., spent half an hour early this morning searching for his wallet. Finally I gave him money for a new bus ticket. After lunch I asked my 4-year-old whether she knew where his wallet was.

"Yes!" she answered. "But it's in a place where I can't reach it." She skips into my bedroom and points to my nightstand. I pull it out, but there is only a dust-bunny underneath.

"Is this where it is?"

"No, it's in-between and I can't get it."

Sure enough, the wallet and a paperback (Ami McKay's The Birth House) are lodged between the bed and the nightstand.

Both she and my older daughter are really, really good at remembering where they last saw things. They must have some kind of gene for visual memory.

In which I fall head over heels. . .

into the rocks of a mountain in the Shomron, that is.

On the first day of Chol Hamoed (the intermediate days of the Sukkot holiday), we went with friends on an organized hike through Nachal Shiloh. We hesitated about the security, the length (four hours!) and the possibility of rain, but decided to go ahead. Being invited to our friends' sukkah for a barbecue afterward didn't hurt.

The hike began in the settlement of Peduel with 136 people, divided into two groups. From Peduel we hiked down to a nachal (creek, dry in this case-- I'm not sure of its name), then up to the ancient city of Tzredah, and back down to Nachal Shiloh and the road, where a car awaited to take drivers back to Peduel.

The hike was rocky and slippery. Even though it had rained in the morning, the sun was hot and there was little mud. The kids enjoyed seeing this turtle:

Near the top of the hill an Arab man drew water from a well, using a rusty bucket. The guide said the water was safe to drink and at least one person refilled a bottle.

We sat under some trees and the guide told us about Tzredah. Tzredah is mentioned in the Book of Kings as the hometown of Yerov'am ben Nevat and in Pirkei Avot as the hometown of the sage Yossi ben Yoezer. Tzredah means the middle finger and the rock formation above the city juts straight up into the air. She advised that children not go over there, because of pits. My husband elected to stay with the two small ones.

The guide explained how archeologists who had come from the wrong direction had missed the distinct topography, and mistakenly placed the settlement of Tzredah in the valley below. But the shards found in the valley turned out to be non-Jewish and from a different period. Then a second archeological team, coming from another direction, identified the spot correctly.

Evidence of settlement in Tzredah

The guide introduced us to a geologist who happened to be on the tour. He explained that Hitler failed to capture Yugoslavia, out of all of the countries of Europe, because the topography was identical to that of Tzredah. The geological terms used to describe the landscape come from Serbian. Whoever rules this area cannot easily be defeated; the geologist referred to it as "topogarchy." (I could not find any mention of this term on the net.) Tanks can't ascend, nor horses -- even donkeys even have a hard time. Goats manage fine, judging by the amount of excrement.

In order to capture as much water as possible and prevent soil erosion, the ancient and not-so-ancient peoples living here built terraces on the hillsides.


We stopped in this cave before starting down.

On the wall of the cave:

Nachal Shiloh

It was a long way down. The guide warned us that it got a little tricky after the beginning. It was more than that. At one point about halfway down there were large rocks with gaps in-between. I tripped over something, banged my leg into a rock, and tumbled over on my head into a gap. I called out but no one heard. I knew my husband and four-year-old were not far behind, along with a few others. When they caught up they helped me stop the bleeding. After resting a few minutes we all continued. Our friends, who were already down in the creek bed, saw we were having trouble and directed us to an easier descent. There was no path and the rest of the group was already at the end. Eventually we made it to the road and my husband was ushered into the car back to Peduel.

Your injured correspondent couldn't resist this last picture:

With a half hour lag between the first and last arrivals, and more than one possible path, someone should have been appointed to stay in the back. Had I fallen down unconscious, I might not have been missed until everyone got to the road.

On that cheerful note, I'll save the rest for another post.

Continuation: Sukkot in the ER

Anything but that

"I'm never going to play with that girl," declares my seven-year-old, when I point out the cute redhead from shul during our visit to the park. "Do you know what she said to me?" He is outraged just thinking of it.

I mentally rehearse my response to the girl's insult. I plan to suggest that she may have done teshuva and regrets her words. I congratulate myself for being so wise. I am ready to hear the worst.

"She said to me, 'Ata rotzeh le-hitchaten iti?'"

She had asked my son to marry her.

A visit with Abbi, and the bug in the challah dough

What I've been up to this week:

1. Met Commenter Abbi in the park. Her children are so sweet! (Sorry about the photo quality--I can't get through to Canon about repairing the camera.) I was glad for an excuse to get out of the house and socialize. On a related note, I don't understand how Israeli mothers manage to spend every afternoon in the park and still get their kids into bed at a reasonable hour.
2. Got a new closet installed, leading to a major reorganization of stuff. Anybody want lighting equipment the electrician had me buy when we moved in four years ago? The contractor had already bought the identical items. Thinking about that electrician still gives me palpitations. I once heard that Jews should never become politicians or electricians.
3. Baked challah with Mimi--I hope one of us will post more on this. While kneading the dough later in the afternoon my daughter (14) saw a bug jumping in, but we could not locate it. Whole bugs can't be nullified by 60 times the amount of kosher food, but since it's possible that the bug jumped out the rabbi said to go ahead and bake it.  Don't tell my Shabbat guests.
   
4. Held the first meeting of our new writing group, also with Mimi. Prepared the second.
   
5. Went chug-hopping with Y., my 7-year-old. (chugim = afterschool activities.) The pretentious science chug involved too much arts and crafts. I thought ju-jitsu would be the winner because of the climbing, crawling, and somersaulting, but Y pronounced it boring. Y chose basketball, the last chug we tried, and the cheapest. It's run by Elitzur, an organization that promotes sports in the religious community in Israel.
6. Took pictures at the shmitah store for an update. Fortunately, my camera decided to cooperate.I spoke to two farmers who happened to be visiting. Look for those post(s) next week.
7. Prepared a shiur on Ki Tavo, this week's Torah portion. I decided to examine previous mentions of maaser, tithing, in the Torah. There are three types of tithes: one for the Levites who guard the Temple, even though they are more famous for singing; one that the owners may consume but only in Jerusalem (they can also redeem it for cash to be spent on food in Jerusalem), and one for the poor including the stranger, widow and orphan.
8. Thought a lot about Rosh Hashana preparations. We don't go for pineapple kugel and honey chicken; spicy chicken and potatoes make my family happiest. We will also have sweet challah, honeycake, fish and matzah balls (because they are round).

Shabbat shalom.

A High School in Israel

[Haveil Havalim is up at Shiloh Musings.]

My daughter entered ninth grade this year. This year she has "the best teacher and the best class." She was able to request a number of friends, and they'll be together for the next four years.

Her school has six grades, each with about eight classes of thirty girls. The six grades are divided into three batim (lit. houses), each with its own building, vice-principal, secretary, advisor, and two teachers who serve as grade-level coordinators.

The school operates several large volunteer projects:

1. All ninth graders volunteer in a public gan (kindergarten) once a week. My daughter catches a van from school at 7:30 to take her across town, where she assists the teacher for two hours. Girls coming from out of town, like the ones in my younger daughter's gan, volunteer close to the school so they don't have to commute twice. They gave the girls (unfortunately bright green) t-shirts so they will be recognized. Good marketing, so long as I don't have to wear that color.
   
2. The school runs a country-wide organization to collect used appliances and furniture and redistribute them to the needy. Seventh-graders work in the warehouse; during the summer my daughter took a few shifts answering the phone to schedule pickups.
3. Students volunteer in the special-education gan right on school premises. My daughter hasn't worked there yet, but girls in her class have.
   

The school is handicapped accessible, has an ethnically heterogeneous population (Jewishly speaking), and boasts the third highest bagrut (matriculation exam) scores in the country, after two secular schools in Haifa. It discourages graduates from enlisting in the army but many still do (my daughter isn't interested).

When my kids were younger someone told me that I would be happier with the girls' schools in Israel than the boys'. The girls don't have the pressure of gemara (Talmud), leaving little time for anything except the bagrut requirements.

[I tried to stay positive all the way through.]

Private vs. Public Transportation Costs

Commenter Tamiri from Elkana wrote about her school-bus situation in the Israel section of the forum Imamother.com. She gave me permission to post an edited version.

We have a son going into 8th grade. With no boys' school here, boys must attend school outside the yishuv (settlement) beginning in 7th grade. The moetza (local council) covers busing for boys who go to school in Nechalim or Petach Tikva. Otherwise, parents are on their own. Our son's school is in Ramat Gan. 
Bussing costs NIS 720/month, or about NIS 35/day. Last year we paid NIS 625. This sum is over and above the tuition we pay, ~NIS 700/month plus books etc. [MiI: NIS 700 is a bargain for boys these days. 900-1500 is common.]

Last year we paid for this luxury busing. This year, we are reluctant.  This seems to be an inordinate amount of money to be spending on one child. 

Tamiri goes on to explain that she can find a slightly less convenient arrangement where he can take the public bus for NIS 6/day. In the end, she found a teacher from the school willing to drive the boys in exchange for sharing the cost of gas. (The driver could not charge more without having liability insurance.)

We have a similar situation regarding hasa'ah (private bussing) for my 7th-grader costing NIS 370/month, or double what the local bus costs. (We live much closer to school than Tamiri.) When my oldest son attended there had been several recent bus bombings, and we sent him on the private hasa'ah (transportation). If he missed the hasa'ah, he had to pay for the local bus anyway (we don't drive them). So he took the public bus beginning in 8th grade. This meant that he needed to walk 10-15 minutes from the bus stop to school, with the option of catching a second bus to school in a downpour (I doubt he ever did). When the school had a program late at night (popular in Israel) when we would not want him taking the bus, the hasa'ah made a special trip. So we would have to drive him or arrange a carpool.

Fortunately my 7th-grader loves public busses and readily agreed to use the public bus; he already found an eighth-grade neighbor to travel with.

Revisiting the Misgeret, or Is Preschool Necessary

It's bound to happen at one time or another when you are out with your toddler. Your neighbor asks you the question you were wondering yourself earlier that day, as you tried to talk on the phone while your son climbed the bookcase: "Isn't he bored at home with you all day? How old is he again? [Insert any answer here.] Shouldn't he be in a misgeret?"

In honor of my 4-year-old starting gan in a few weeks (we did have an informal two-child playgroup, technically a misgeret I suppose), I share my answers to the suppositions of nosy and rude advice-givers. They don't deserve a reply. But at times we must address concerns of family members, or, more likely, we ourselves need the reassurance.

• "The child needs to get used to being in gan for half the day." Or, "She will be behind academically." When I mentioned to one mother that our three-year-olds would be in gan together the following year, she asked how I could send her when she hadn't been in gan at age two. According to this theory, children need a year in a misgeret to prepare for the next misgeret.
  
• [This one is for late talkers.] "Gan will help him learn to talk." This is just wrong. Children in gan generally spend little time talking one-on-one to an adult. And the less the child communicates through speech, the less verbal attention he is likely to get from teachers. Children develop speaking skills at vastly different ages and unless you have reason to suspect a problem, it's safe to let them develop at their own pace. Gan will not make a huge difference either way.
  
• [For olim] "The child needs to learn Hebrew." Gan-aged, immigrant children still have plenty of time to become fully bilingual. But language is a balance. If your child spends most of her day in a Hebrew-speaking environment, her English vocabulary will be smaller. And vice versa. You can teach him Hebrew yourself, or make playdates with Hebrew-speaking children, to ease the transition. But immigrants to all countries have survived the experience; emotional maturity is more important than language. [My daughter is concerned about this despite more than adequate Hebrew skills.]
  
• "He needs to play with children his own age." I question this assumption "milechat'hilah." The younger the child, the less equipped to compete with others for the attention of adults. Since making aliyah the age of starting group care has lowered, while time spent in care increased. Children learn social skills mainly from their parents, and they can play with other children while parents are present. If all neighborhood children are in gan, they can meet in the afternoon or on weekends. They don't need thirty hours a week away from parents to learn cooperative play. Unfortunately, preschool for fewer hours is unheard of in Israel. (Let me qualify that--I heard of a gan run by the city of Tel Aviv where you can leave a child on a drop-off basis.)
  
• "Immigrant children need to develop a tough, Israeli exterior." (I mentioned this here.) Okay, but at what cost? I read of a doctoral student who spent months observing three-year-olds in an Israeli gan. She reported of a complex social structure that included children bringing treats to appease bullies. The children's teachers remained unaware. When put into such an environment children may learn healthy ways of defending themselves. Others become aggressive, or conversely, withdrawn.
  
• "Aren't you bored?" Mothers are supposed to be doing adult activities, not playing games all day with their children. (See my next point.)
  
• "Do you sit with her?" I get this all the time; they are asking whether I use worksheets or teach letters and numbers. (I visited a highly-recommended gan where three-year-olds did worksheets each day.) The short answer is no; I enjoy a loose daily structure. We read, play, color, go to the park, run errands, do chores, and meet other mothers and children. The children who are interested pick up letters, numbers and even reading. They play by themselves a good deal of the time while I do "adult" things. In turn, I expect frequent interruptions.
  
• "Your child is too shy/aggressive/wild/attached to you/disobedient/spoiled/slow/bossy. It's because you don't send him to gan." Every child develops different and has personality problems challenges, even the ones who attend gan. Who doesn't? But if you keep your child home, you will be blamed for those issues.
  

Over a million American children are being homeschooled for elementary and/or high school. Surely that puts keeping a two-, three-, or four-year-old at home for another year in perspective.

(I wish I didn't need to add this caveat: I am not trying to convince parents to keep their kids out of gan, or quit their jobs. I do wish to support parents struggling with this issue.)

New blog posts can be found at A Mother in Israel.

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(Mis)Adventures in International Travel: Back to NY

After Brookside Gardens we went to Max's, a kosher deli, for lunch. My brother hoped we could sit down, but my daughter (DiI) insisted we leave for the airport. I took the food, booster seats, strollers and children onto the Metro and said goodbye to my brother and nephew.

At National the computerized Shuttle "kiosk" rejected us. We were misdirected upstairs to the regular Delta counter, with a humongous line, and at 1:10 we found the Shuttle counter. Our flight was for 1:30. At least it wasn't cancelled.

When the computer again did not show our reservations, the agent simply began to book us in manually. I told her about the threat on our trip down, and she said we wouldn't be charged. She printed out old-fashioned cardpaper tickets and boarding passes. The people behind us in line were plotzing, so the agent advised them to check in using the electronic kiosk. "That's what they're for," she informed them helpfully.

At about 1:20 we got to the security line. The inspector looked at my brand-new boarding passes, marked them for special security, and directed us to another line. It's that middle eastern thing again; I'm not sure how we escaped it on the way down. DiI still doesn't understand how they knew just from looking at the boarding passes.

The woman at the front of the newest line decided not to argue with me after I explained that we had been diverted here from another line and our flight was in ten minutes. Small children are useful sometimes. They patted us down gender-appropriately and rifled through our hand luggage. When the basket on the conveyor belt began ringing an agent gave permission to answer my cellphone; we had passed. It was my brother -- I think he realized that we may have cut it too close. I told him that if he didn't hear from us again, we were on the plane.

We replaced our shoes and ran to the gate, catching the plane about 30 seconds before the doors closed. Two passengers from the check-in line boarded right behind us. We buckled into seats in the last three rows of the plane,

My four-year-old could finally eat her hotdog.

Highlights of My Washington Trip

The nevertheless entertaining Tisha B'Av edition of Haveil Haveilim can be found over at Simply Jews.

We finally arrived in Washington. Usually, by the time I arrive at my sister's house with my small children, the last thing I want to do is get on another plane. But I decided to be brave, and flying the day after arrival was even braver. Below are some highlights.

• One day we visited museums with an old friend and her kids, and the next day we went to the zoo. Here is the 6.5-year-old elephant taking a bath; my four-year-old recently wondered whether it had turned seven yet.

• We had a mini-misadventure on the bus from the Metro. My brother rarely takes the bus so we agreed that I would call to find out where to disembark. After trying his cellphone six times I realized that I could call my sister in New York to get his home number. My sister-in-law, who unfortunately knows less about bus travel than my brother, advised me to get off immediately. We did, and had to be rescued by car shortly afterward.
• Our second mini-misadventure occurred the next afternoon, upon discovering that I didn't have exact change for the bus. Purchases near the Metro involve vending machines and unless you have change to begin with, you are stuck. I asked a woman at the bus stop for change for $5, which she didn't have. I mentioned being $0.05 short and she offered me a nickel. Even though I would have gladly done the same for someone else I felt terribly uncomfortable. Should I have spent an extra $2 to avoid accepting a nickel from a stranger? This time we got off at the right stop and managed to find my brother's house (eventually).
• My brother and nephew were available for sightseeing on our last morning. But dragging luggage, carseats, and a stroller through downtown museums seemed vaguely impractical and we could not come up with a place to stow it. So my brother suggested Brookside Gardens. I thought my children would find a botanical garden dull after Washington's other attractions, but I try to be accommodating. Especially when someone else is driving. I should have trusted my older, wiser brother who taught me serious backgammon strategy. There was a lake, turtles, catfish, bridges, and stepping stones along with plants of all types. We wanted time to stop for lunch before the flight, so we debated buying a ticket for the butterfly exhibit. And again my brother made the right move. After observing butterflies at different stages of development. Then we entered a large room filled with butterflies of all colors, patterns and sizes flitting about like, well, butterflies. Before you leave you check in a mirror to make sure none is catching a ride on your back.
• My sister-in-law and nephews are probably not used to hosting such a crowd, but you couldn't have guessed. We had fun together.
• I tracked down a cousin and ended up going to a "lechayim" for her daughter's engagement.

In case you were wondering, we did have a misadventure on our way back to New York. I hope you can handle the suspense . . .

Jet lag and secondary jet lag

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.

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.

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.

Things I Hate About School

This is another guest post of Daughter In Israel, special for the end of the school year. [MiI: You can find the first one here.] If you are a teacher, please do not be offended, but see this post as advice for things you shouldn't be doing in the coming school year and may be the reason students don't like you. [ProfK mistakenly thought that I wrote the previous sentence; DiI did.]

So here are most of the reasons I don't like school:

• Teachers who make you feel guilty for pointing out their mistakes/giving a right answer. (Did you hear what DII said? She said that....It's very important, right, DII?)
• Teachers that say the misbehaving class isn't acting its age. (I feel like I'm in...elementary school teachers:gan/ganon /first grade. high school teachers:elementary school)
• Teachers that don't turn a ninety-nine into a hundred.
• Teachers that threaten to take off points if you won't do your homework and don't even bother checking it.
• Teachers that think they're funny also when they tell the same "joke" for the tenth time.
• Teachers that get insulted if you don't treat them as friends.
  
• Ending school at 4:00 p.m. almost every day.
  

Happy Pesach

A month ago I committed to writing a post a day (bli neder) until Pesach; despite a few bad days I had fun and the blogging energized me enough to get through Pesach preparations. My readership substantially increased, although recently more than half of my hits came from people searching for a potato kugel recipe. And the LA Times Middle East blog page listed this blog on its sidebar--how cool is that?

Two things made me happy this morning: My son had washed the floor after I went to sleep, and my daughter offered to help iron his shirts (I'm allergic to ironing).

Despite a few rough moments, I confess to enjoying Pesach cleaning. I don't have the stamina I used to but the work seems to have gotten done. We can only hope that I didn't forget some crucial item.

Wishing all my readers, commenters and lurkers a beautiful, kosher, meaningful, relaxing, enjoyable, delicious and memorable Passover.