This week has been one big carb load. We’ve eaten pasta. I’ve made meatballs. This morning, I took Isabelle to Starbucks so she could get a muffin before school. Tonight, we’re bringing pizza in for dinner. Why? Because PASSOVER BEGINS THIS SATURDAY NIGHT AT SUNDOWN.
If you’re unfamiliar with Passover, you might enjoy this humorous explanation of the holiday by acrtress Mayim Bialik.
Carb-loading aside, I’ve been preparing for Passover with Ari for the past few weeks since he’s reached at an age where he is curious about the holidays and is soaking in everything he learns.
This morning, after I got the chicken soup — the first of many dishes I’ll make for our Seder — simmering on the stove, we began gathering everything we needed for our Seder table.
Gathering the items we need doesn’t mean setting the table. (That won’t happen for a couple of days because four-year-old children, fine china, and crystal don’t mesh.) What it means is running around the house and finding all of the items that we’ll need for our Seder table. Thankfully, he was an agreeable helper!
See? It’s a little more involved than planning Thanksgiving dinner!
Once everything was gathered, we took a nap. (I wish.) Seriously, though, we neatened everything up and went back to the soup.
Everything got tucked away for the next couple of days.
Tomorrow, I’ll make charoses, matzah balls, and a flourless chocolate cake. The rest of the dinner will get prepared on Saturday.
So now you know why I’ll be missing from the SOLSC this weekend!
Head over to Two Writing Teachers for more slice of life stories.
Isabelle’s Hebrew School class has been talking about B’nai Mitzvah for the past few weeks. It’s the focus of their time together on Sunday mornings this semester. This morning, our Rabbi spoke to Isabelle’s Hebrew School class about having a Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Parents were invited. Isabelle invited me to sit alongside her while Marc zoomed in from the kitchen since someone had to watch Ari.
Our rabbi invited some of the parents to speak about something they remember from their Bar/Bat Mitzvah. I raised my hand and recalled trying to make a connected between my Torah portion and the world in 1990. Then, our Rabbi tried to assuage some of their fears (e.g., standing up in front of the congregation to lead the service) about the big day and what it entails. He spoke of some of the requirements. He invited parent questions. He assured the children that he would push them to take on as much as they could handle for their Bar/Bat Mitzvah, but he wouldn’t push them to the point where they’d feel embarrassed about leading any part of the service. Isabelle told me that hearing him say that made her feel better about what her Bat Mitzvah might look like.
There was a lot to take in. We still have a lot of decisions to make about where Isabelle will have her Bat Mitzvah (i.e., We’re entertaining the idea of going to Israel if she sees it as more than just a vacation.), when she’ll have her Bat Mitzvah (i.e., in the early spring of 2024 rather than the wintertime since I don’t want to deal with snow), and who will attend her Bat Mitzvah (i.e., will it be a small family affair or will she want to have a bigger celebration).
Right now, we’re talking. We’re not making any decisions. We are in the beginning stages of figuring things out. We have a year until we have to really make a decision. So, as much as Isabelle wants to know when/where it will be, Marc and I have decided that this is something the three of us need to discuss and decide upon together if we want it to have meaning and value to her. What we want may not be what she wants. (And, quite frankly, she doesn’t know what she wants yet.) We’ll get there…
But, honestly, as I was sitting on Isabelle’s bed, watching our Rabbi talk to us via Zoom, I did a double-take. How did my baby girl grow up so quickly? It feels like just yesterday that we were planning her Simchat Bat (i.e., Blessing of a Daughter ceremony at our synagogue in Harrisburg). In reality, it was nearly ten years ago! Now, we’re starting to think about her Bat Mitzvah, which will be in three years.
As the saying goes, “The days are long and the years are short.”
Head over to Two Writing Teachers for more slice of life stories.
Twice a week, Ari and I participate in a 20-minute Jewish music class through The Leffell School in New York. To say it’s one of the highlights of our pandemic life is an understatement. The classes are some of the best moments in the week. It treat it as a sacred time by turning off the notifications on my phone so we cannot be disturbed.
One of the songs Amichai the Music Guy (who is the school’s Minister of Music) sings with the kids every Tuesday is “The Rainbow Song,” which teaches the kids the Hebrew names for the colors. Ari, and all of the kids who take the class, adore sharing items around their house for every color of the rainbow. This morning, Ari brought a special guest to the Zoom music class just for “The Rainbow Song.” It was none other than Love Monster (the main character of Rachel Bright’s Love Monster series)!
As always, Ari was excited to show off one of his color items during the class. However, there are about 100 kids participating in the class so it was possible his video wouldn’t get spotlighted when it came time for red (aka: adom).
But, sure enough, Ari was the first kid who was spotlighted right after the following words were sung:
My favorite color is Adom, Adom is my favorite color, Adom is the color of a strawberry…
Ari was holding Love Monster with outstretched arms, nice and close to the screen. Amichai didn’t miss a beat. He went right into “Adom is the color of Love Monster” before moving onto the next kiddo’s red item.
Can you guess Ari’s favorite color? I’ll give you a hint: it’s also the color of his shirt.
Ari was delighted Love Monster got to make a special appearance.
I wonder who will come for next Tuesday’s music class.
Head over to Two Writing Teachers for more slice of life stories.
When Isabelle was in preschool, we began dedicating the fifth night of Chanukah to charitable giving. It felt like a no brainer to me since I’m not a present-each-night kind of mom. For the past six Chanukahs (including this one), Isabelle has emptied her tzedakah box and picks an organization for her donation. In the past, she’s donated to organizations such as Best Friends Animal Society, Children’s Miracle Network, and the Pajama Program (which Slicers may recognize as TWT’s SOLSC charity of choice!). This year, she selected to donate her tzedakah money to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital “to help kids with cancer.”
This year, Ari joined the fifth night donation for the first time. Over breakfast, I explained this Chanukah tradition to Ari. I asked him, “Do you want to help feed kids who are hungry?” He said yes. I asked him, “Do you want to buy books for kids who don’t have books in their homes?” He said yes. I asked him, “Do you want to help kids who are sick?” He said yes. I asked him several more questions and every answer was yes. But, finally, I got a different answer when I asked, “Do you want to help animals who may have been hurt or not cared for and are trying to get better?” His face lit up and he gave me a big YES!
I suggested Lancaster Farm Sanctuary, which is a local organization that cares for animals who have been abused and neglected, to him. I showed Ari some photos and a video on their website. Once he saw that some of Lancaster Farm Sanctuary’s residents are goats, he declared, “That’s where I want to give my money!”
This evening, Ari came into my office to make the donation. (He handed over the cash to me and I put it on my credit card.) When I filled out the donation form, I wrote:
Ari (my four-year-old son) is donating some of his saved Tzedakah money instead of getting a Chanukah present tonight. He loves animals, especially goats. We hope to come visit after COVID!
Less than two hours later, I received an email back from one of the women who runs the sanctuary, which said:
Please tell Ari we are so grateful that he chose to support our farm sanctuary. We hope after COVID you and Ari are able to come and visit us at the farm to see all of our residents, especially the goats 🙂
One of the photos I received this evening.
And do you want to know what else was included in the email? PHOTOS OF SOME OF THEIR GOATS! Ari will be thrilled when I show him the email and the goats’ photos in the morning.
Quite frankly, I’m touched the folks who run Lancaster Farm Sanctuary took the time to write back — and send photos of the goats — after receiving what amounted to a small donation. That kind of personal touch will have us donating again in the future.
I heard about Days United sometime between our decision to pull Ari out of preschool and Rosh Hashanah. It’s a subscription service that provides holiday and culture boxes to families. I ordered the eight-box holiday set. The kids and I adored the Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot boxes. So, yesterday, when my friend Emily asked me if we had received our Chanukah box yet (She gets them for her daughter too and thought this one was amazing!), I said “not yet.” Both kids were awaiting the box’s arrival eagerly.
This evening, as I was preparing dinner, I noticed a package from Days United. THE BOX! I gathered the kids around and we unpacked it together. We got excited about the activities inside and decided to make the Chanukah menorah before bedtime.
The booklet’s photos for the traditional menorah, which the kids wanted to make, were too small for me to see which side of each bolt to use. I called Marc since I needed help. He watched the too-fast video. He flipped through the instruction booklet. He couldn’t figure it out either.
WE HAVE FOUR ADVANCED DEGREES BETWEEN US AND WE COULD NOT FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO! (Apparently we needed a master’s in engineering, which neither of us have, to complete the traditional menorah.) The kids were grumbling, but I was groaning the loudest. “This is supposed to be fun.” “This is a craft project we’re supposed to do with the kids, not for them.” “The company’s tag line is ‘making traditions together’… this isn’t together if they’re sitting on the floor while we’re sitting at the table trying to figure this out.”
After I scrapped the traditional menorah (since we were working unsuccessfully on it for over 20 minutes), I declared that we should try to follow the picture directions for the Star of David menorah, which contained slightly larger images. After fiddling around with it for about seven minutes, I finally figured it out. Even Marc was impressed since I am not a handy person by nature.
I allowed the kids to screw in the final two candle holders so they could feel like they completed some aspect of the project.
Ari inserted two candles so the kids’ menorah is ready to go for Thursday night.
I’m feeling better after having written this, but quite frankly, I’m hoping the rest of the items in our box are more fun than this was since this was anything but fun.
I heard about Days United sometime between our decision to pull Ari out of preschool and Rosh Hashanah. It’s a subscription service that provides holiday and culture boxes to families. I ordered the eight-box holiday set. The kids and I adored the Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot boxes. So, yesterday, when my friend Emily asked me if we had received our Chanukah box yet (She gets them for her daughter too and thought this one was amazing!), I said “not yet.” Both kids were awaiting the box’s arrival eagerly.
This evening, as I was preparing dinner, I noticed a package from Days United. THE BOX! I gathered the kids around and we unpacked it together. We got excited about the activities inside and decided to make the Chanukah menorah before bedtime.
The booklet’s photos for the traditional menorah, which the kids wanted to make, were too small for me to see which side of each bolt to use. I called Marc since I needed help. He watched the too-fast video. He flipped through the instruction booklet. He couldn’t figure it out either.
WE HAVE FOUR ADVANCED DEGREES BETWEEN US AND WE COULD NOT FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO! (Apparently we needed a master’s in engineering, which neither of us have, to complete the traditional menorah.) The kids were grumbling, but I was groaning the loudest. “This is supposed to be fun.” “This is a craft project we’re supposed to do with the kids, not for them.” “The company’s tag line is ‘making traditions together’… this isn’t together if they’re sitting on the floor while we’re sitting at the table trying to figure this out.”
After I scrapped the traditional menorah (since we were working unsuccessfully on it for over 20 minutes), I declared that we should try to follow the picture directions for the Star of David menorah, which contained slightly larger images. After fiddling around with it for about seven minutes, I finally figured it out. Even Marc was impressed since I am not a handy person by nature.
I allowed the kids to screw in the final two candle holders so they could feel like they completed some aspect of the project.
Ari inserted two candles so the kids’ menorah is ready to go for Thursday night.
I’m feeling better after having written this, but quite frankly, I’m hoping the rest of the items in our box are more fun than this was since this was anything but fun.
I was driving my kids to the library yesterday morning when the Resistbot text came through announcing that the presidential race had been called for Biden/Harris. As I made the right turn into the library parking lot, I burst into tears.
“Why are you crying, Mommy?” Isabelled asked.
I grabbed her hand once I parked the car and said, “They’re happy tears, sweetheart. It’s over. Biden/Harris won!”
“So you’re crying because you’re… happy?”
“Yes,” I replied. I paused to take several cleansing breaths. “I’m crying because I’m so very happy. Sometimes we cry when we’re happy.”
A moment later, a notification from The Washington Post popped up confirming what Resistbot said. I texted Marc, who was waiting for us inside of the library. I told him Biden was president-elect and that we’d be a couple extra minutes. (I needed to dry my face.) He must’ve known I was having some big emotions since he met us at the car and helped me get the kids out.
I can think of no better place than the public library to find out about the outcome of this election.
*****
Feeding the Ducks
It’s morning again in America. *
This morning, after a restful night’s sleep, I took my kids to the park to feed the ducks. On our drive there, I noticed many of the political signs that had been adorning people’s lawns had come down. I felt lighter as normalcy seemed to return to the local landscape.
Biden lifted some — not all, but some — of the sadness and anger that hovered over the Black community, immigrants, Jews and others as they’d watched the current administration allow white supremacy to grow freely and thrive. Biden was willing to acknowledge the existence of systemic racism not in theory, but in reality. He knew what it meant for a Black parent to give their Black child “the talk” about how to move through life. He knew that it was not just about how to engage with police officers but also about how to avoid suspicion, how to always strive to be better than best, in order to just be seen as okay. Biden could see the world through other people’s eyes and that alone was worth cheering and banging on drums.
Robin Givhan
Despite feeling a sense of relief, I know the election of Biden/Harris will not make white supremacy, anti-immigrant bias and racism disappear. There is enormous work that needs to be done to help people accept one another not in spite of their differences but because of them. But as an American Jew, I feel like I can exhale.
*= I’m aware that this was from a 1984 Reagan for President ad. My use of it has nothing to do with my approval or disapproval of Reagan. I appreciate the renewal metaphor, which is why I began with it.
As a general rule, Ari detests Zoom. It takes a lot to engage him for more than five minutes. To be fair, he’s four.
That said, he’s been enjoying the Jewish music classes we’ve been doing through a school in New York. The music teacher engages the kids for 20 minutes — sometimes longer — with holiday songs (since Jews have a truckload of fall holidays!), Shabbat songs (on Fridays) and songs that are just plain ol’ fun for preschoolers that deal with everything from colors to gratitude.
While today felt like an ordinary Tuesday in the time of COVID-19 when I woke up my perspective changed once I realized we had our morning music class. As usual, Ari invited one of his puppies to join us. Together, we sang Hinei Ma Tov and other songs for Sukkot. Time passed quickly despite Ari being a bit more restless than usual. However, by the last song, Ari was refocused and happy to participate in the final song’s hand motions.
Music Class a Selfie with Patchy (one of Ari’s favorite stuffies)
There are five days each year I cease from using my phone. They are both days of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and the first two days of Passover. I’ve been strict about that through the years for I want to stay present rather than getting pulled away by the dinging and pinging.
I knew I would be unable to stay away from technology this year since we would need it to access services. On one hand, I was saddened by the fact I wouldn’t be getting dressed up to celebrate in synagogue because of the global pandemic. On the other hand, I was thrilled I could stream services from my former synagogue in Manhattan, which I haven’t worshipped at on the High Holidays since 2007.
Last night, I walked upstairs and changed out of my dress. (Yes! We dressed up for Erev Rosh Hashanah even though it was just four of us dining together since I fell down the steps last Erev Rosh Hashanah and spent hours in the ER, not in synagogue.) I grabbed my phone to join our Lancaster synagogue’s services since it was past the start time of the one in New York. I gasped when I saw The Washington Post breaking news: Justice Ginsberg died at 87.
Many liberal and progressive Americans felt gut-punched by the news. But for those of us celebrating Rosh Hashanah, it was even harder. Writer Carly Pildis summed it up perfectly in her piece for The Forward:
Her loss is unthinkable. She seemed like Moses, like she would live 400 years. Grief filled our Rosh Hashanah tables. We Jewish mothers who had been working for days to try to somehow make a sweet holiday in these bitterest of times became overwhelmed with mourning. What use to us were apples and honey when Justice Ginsburg was gone?
Carly encapsulated every feeling I had in that paragraph. I had spent the previous four days preparing for Rosh Hashanah. I made honey cake, brisket, and kugel. I created a Rosh Hashanah Seder plate with items Ari and I shopped for together. I did craft projects with the kids to get them ready. I ironed clothes. (My parents, who will read this, will attest to my disdain for ironing.) I pulled off an abridged Rosh Hashanah Seder — my first ever — after we said our Shabbat prayers. And then, just when I thought it was time for me to enjoy the holiday as a participant, I read that breaking news alert. And while Justice Ginsberg passing in the final moments of 5780 was totally on-brand for that Jewish year, it was just too much.
Yes, there were moments of joy on Rosh Hashanah, which included dancing around our great room with Marc and Ari during the children’s service while singing “B’shanah Habaa” and making a second honey cinnamon pound cake that was better than the first honey cake. But this year wasn’t as sweet and it wasn’t just because COVID-19 kept us at home.
Jewish people don’t say “rest in peace” when someone dies. Instead we say “Baruch Dayan Ha’Emet,” which means “Blessed is the true judge.” When we want to share our condolences, we typically say, “May their memory be for a blessing.” But let’s go a bit further with Justice Ginsberg. May her memory be a revolution.
Something to ponder: How will you let her memory be for a revolution with what you do in the next weeks and months of your life?
Honey Cinnamon Pound Cake (Recipe from Leah Koenig’s Modern Jewish Cooking bakes in a mold from Days United.)
Today is National Ice Cream Day. (Yes, that’s actually a thing.) While we didn’t eat ice cream today (WHY NOT!??!), it made me realize I should record the history of how Friday night came to be ice cream night in our house.
Every Friday night, so long as we’re in Pennsylvania (These days, we’re in Pennsylvania ALL OF THE TIME!), we have Shabbat dinner at home as a family. We begin with the traditional Friday night blessings and then eat a meal together.
Up until last summer, dessert wasn’t always a given. But all that changed one Friday night last July when the kids were wired and I had a hankering for something sweet. I remember pulling Marc aside and asking him if he wanted to go out for ice cream. He looked at me — perplexed — since we never go out on Friday nights. We’re home, as a family, celebrating Shabbat.
Marc agreed that getting ice cream out was a good idea so I proposed it to the kids with the understanding that it was a special, one-time thing. Of course, they cheered and acted like they were part of a coup. After we cleaned up from dinner, we drove a couple of miles down the road for ice cream.
The following Friday night, the kids wanted to go out for ice cream again. I anticipated this request so I planned ahead. I opened the freezer and showed them some recently-purchased pints of ice cream. I reminded them we wouldn’t be going out for ice cream, but we could have it after everyone finished their supper. Thankfully, they were pleased by ice cream for dessert, even if it was at home.
The Friday night ice cream tradition has been going strong for a year now. It provides a great incentive to eat whatever is served with a minimal amount of pickiness. (Of course, there are still complaints if someone doesn’t like the vegetable I make.) But the promise of ice cream after Shabbat dinner makes everyone happier.
Everyone was content with their ice cream.
I was the one scooping out the ice cream into dessert dishes this past Friday night. I set everyone’s bowl onto the table and realized how quiet it was. That’s when I stood up to take a photo. No one was chatting. Rather, everyone was eating their ice cream happily at the table. It was the essence of shalom bayit, or peace in the house.
Raising Literate Humans 