Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

yes, she’s talking about feminism again.

July 4, 2012 3 comments

If you’re my friend on FB you’ll know I’ve been ranting about this topic a lot lately.

And then my friend posted a link to this blog post (not hers) and honestly, I just cannot take this sh*t anymore. Not another second.

My comment in response was this:

“Just the first sentence is utterly ridiculous. Feminism is a load a crap because her fragile belief system couldn’t relate to the idea of the word womyn? Because one woman wrote an article about how SAHMs can’t be feminist? I suspect she wrote this for attention, for traffic. If her idea of feminism is so easily shaken, she doesn’t have a clue what feminism is. As long as she or any of us believe that women should have the right to determine our own lives, careers, whether or not to have children, whether or not to marry, to get an education, to earn the same as men in similar professional positions, to work or stay home and raise kids (and I believe that men should also have the choice) she (and we) are feminists. That’s the core. Around that core are many different opinions and schools of thought. Some extreme, some less so. As long as we believe in the core, we are feminists. Like I said, TIME writes an article about mothers and she’s all crying into her latte cause she can’t be a feminist anymore? Give me a break.”
And then I stopped. But I want to go on. I want to go on and on and on. I want to give these women and men a good hard shoulder shake and say “really? really?”. Because if we’re  not feminists, we have no business voting, or working, or doing pretty much anything other than living in the roles prescribed us by a patriarchal society.
Women went to prison in the early 1900’s so we could have the right to vote. Women were ostracized, bullied, threatened and hurt for the freedoms that we take for granted.
Yes, there are different schools and movements and theories and controversies within the feminism movement. But at its core, it’s about the struggle for women’s rights and equality.
Unless we are willing to go back to the way things were, none of us have the right to renounce feminism.
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Awful, awful, wonderful.

June 6, 2012 Leave a comment

I was watching this movie the other day where Jennifer Lopez’s character gets pregnant via sperm donation and then meets her Mr Right. Which is not the point of this post. Except to say that I think she’s just ridiculously beautiful.

And there’s this part where the guy is talking to a father in the park. He asks the father what it’s like having kids, and the father says something like “it’s awful, it’s awful, it’s so awful, it’s really awful, and then there is a moment where it’s just incredible, and again it’s awful, and awful, and awful”. Then the kid walks up to the father and hands him a piece of poo.

Of all the things written about parenthood, like, ever, it takes a silly romantic B movie to capture it so perfectly.

Here’s what I’ve noticed though as my girls grow up, especially with Niv maturing and Shai being a far easier 2 year old than Niv ever was – there’s less awful and more wonderful. I actually enjoy spending time with them. Not ALL the time. The urge to bang my head against a wall still surfaces often, but still….a bit…less.

It sounds obvious, right? That as they get older it gets easier. So many people said that to me. I just didn’t believe them. I have to live it to understand it. How when Niv asks for something and I say “no” she now sometimes says “ok Ima”. I’m all ready for the battle, and it’s just such a relief taking off the armor. She glows as I praise her for being so mature about it, and the rest of the afternoon goes smoother.

I still have one major issue, and for some reason, it’s mine. I’m sure it’s a sensory thing (always been super-sensitive to noise, made much worse after partial hearing loss in one ear when Niv was a baby), but the bickering between them is my breaking point. And the truth is that it’s really not so bad. Just typical sibling fighting over toys and stuck out tongues and perceived insults. Shai has a shriek that is reserved for Niv’s teasing, and Niv does this f******* annoying “di (enough) Shai….di……..di……di….” in a super low, creepy soft voice over and over again until I scream.

But then I think – I don’t want them to grow up not being allowed to have conflict and work through it because I’m so sensitive to noise. On the other hand I remember feeling how unfair it was as a child when I felt wronged and my parents told us they didn’t want to hear it, and to sort it out ourselves. And I can’t say I feel like it helped me in solving conflict. I’ve tried active listening, but Shai is just too small for it. And then it feels like I’m asking Niv to always give in.

So…any suggestions?



Leap of faith

February 29, 2012 2 comments

Two things:

1. Today is my and Moran’s 8th anniversary.

2. A few days before I started working at the job where I met Moran, I got an eye infection. Then I got the flu. One night I went to sleep, and when I woke up in the morning my eye looked something like this:

This is the letter he wrote me today:


Our 8th anniversary!

So exciting!

I am so happy we met one another.

I remember the first day I met you. It was Sunday, April 2nd 2000.

You were sitting behind a desk as I entered the room, and when my eyes met your eyes for the first time I thought to myself: “WTF?! What happened to her eye? Is it permanent?”

That was our lowest point 🙂

Ever since, I noticed how great you are. I started to like you more and more, and then love you more and more. Today I love you so much it’s impossible to think what I would have done without you.

You (and both of your little x chromosomes) are my life!

I love you.

Happy anniversary,


EDIT: Moran gave me permission to put in the rest…

Categories: Uncategorized

Bless her heart

January 19, 2012 2 comments

The other night Niv had a meltdown. It was past her bedtime, but she really wanted to draw a picture and write a long message to her friend who’s mom just had a baby. I sat with her and patiently spelled out every word of every sentence. It was not a short letter. She drew a lovely picture of monkeys and asked to put it all in an envelope.

And then she made a mistake on the envelope and went stark raving mental. She was clearly tired and past her coping with failure threshold and the fallout wasn’t pretty. I let her cry and tried to calm her but the final straw was her shouting rudely at me. I said “right, enough”, and told her to go to her room. Aha. Sure. At this point Moran came into the room, grabbed the envelope from her and threatened to tear it up. Lovely. Just great. Because that will most definitely calm the beast. He didn’t rip it up, but he did pick her up, fighting like a wet cornered cat, and put her in bed.

That’s when she stopped crying. And started screaming:

OOOOHHHHH! How fun! How fun for us that there are parents who will RIP APART children’s drawings! And envelopes! Thank GOD for parents like this, that will grab their children’s creations from their hands and tear them up! How lucky we all are! WHAT FUN!

She’s 5. The future terrifies me.

Categories: Uncategorized

It’s Friday morning, the sun is shining…

January 18, 2012 Leave a comment

This post from Melchett Mike reminded me of something that happened to me a few years ago. Moran and I were walking down Shenkin street on a busy Friday morning (on the pavement obviously), and suddenly there was a guy on a bike barreling towards me full speed. It was also obvious that the bike rider was chromosomally challenged in one way or another, which is, er, fine, you know. I’m not knocking the guy. Seriously. I mean, he’s out there, riding a bike, independent and all that. Good for him. Please no hate mail! Aaand back to my story. As I scrambled to get out of the way, he shouted at me (with a lisp) something so priceless that it’s become one of our daily catchphrases:

“THUTHI VAKASHA METHUMTHEMET!” (zuzi b’vakasha metumtemet. Eng: Move please idiot).

The ironies in that short sentence are both stark and subtle, and many. For starters: 

1. He is riding full speed along a PAVEMENT, not a bike lane nor a road. And he’s shouting at ME to move.

2. He is shouting for me to move, and then politely screams “VAKASHA” (please). ????

3. After shouting PLEASE, he calls me a metumtemet

4. I’M the metumtemet?

That’s what makes it so brilliant. And I can tell you this – it was worth it for the sheer satisfaction I get when I’m reaching past Moran for the salt and I shout “thuth vakasha methumtham”.

Categories: Israel, Uncategorized

Gibran on children

December 6, 2011 1 comment

As a mother, I struggle to find my path. Sometimes I lie awake and wonder if I am worthy of these amazing girls. If I am good enough to be their mother. If I can find the wisdom and strength and patience to to navigate their childhood and bring them through to adulthood happy and healthy.

When I’m having one of these moments, this poem by Kahlil Gibran about children often makes my mind go…quiet, and calm. For a bit.


Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Categories: Uncategorized

A letter in which I say things that no one else wants to say. Then I swear again. But I use ***s this time!

November 24, 2011 5 comments

Dear Evolution,

First, can I congratulate you on a job very well done? I mean, except for the odd design snafu here and there (you know what I’m referring to right? Where that one thing is too close to the other? Well if I have to spell it out for you…you know…where the windpipe is too close to the food tube? Ohhh…the other two things? Right. Well. Those too) you’ve done exceptionally well with what is, in essence, a bunch of cells, electricity, and (hopefully) a soul.

And I mean, I get it, I do. You force us into attempting monogamous pair-bonding for our entire adult lives despite all the contradictory hardwiring (bet you didn’t see modern medicine coming, did you? Effectively extending our lives and said monogamy for years…and…years…and….years. FUN!) because it takes at least two adult humans to get these infinitely complex, tiny little humans to adulthood. So for the most part it makes sense, it does.

But if I may be so bold as to ask – what the f**k? What the f**king f**kity f**k?

Can we start with childbirth? Can we? I say, yes, let’s. And I think that pretty much every woman who has every borne a child joins me in saying yet again…WHAT. THE. F**K. So with that in mind, can I make a suggestion? Just something to mull over when planning future human generations? I’m thinking something along the lines of an abdominal birthing flap thingie. And please, make it bigger than a walnut. You’d think it’s ridiculous that I even have to suggest that last bit, but there you go then.

Then there are the actual babies. My GOD (someone you don’t believe in I know, but some of us need something to pray to in the middle of another infernally endless sleepless night, and you’re not it), the eeeendless crying and weeping and wailing and screaming. And that’s just me. Honestly now, thinking back, wouldn’t it have made more sense to make them a little more self sufficient? And a little less floppy? It’s 3am and you haven’t slept in 72 hours and your arm loses feeling for a second and the little head flops back and I’m telling you, this parenting gig is some scary sh*t. I’m just saying. Maybe they can get a little…I dunno….firmer….sooner?

And not that you probably care or anything, but I’ve been wiping poo bums that are not attached to ME for almost 5 years now, and I see no end in sight. Again, something to think about when planning the next batch. Please, don’t get me wrong. I am endlessly, infinitely grateful for my two gorgeous, happy, healthy girls, and I thank God and the universe for them every day (and pray to get them to adulthood and beyond the same way). But I’m thinking maybe some sort of self cleaning mechanism?

And while I’m pretty sure I know you’re going to tell me exactly where I can file this, I still feel it’s my duty to remind you that no matter how good a job you’re doing, there’s always some room for improvement (something you have programmed our offspring to remind us of daily).

But again! Thanks for everything! Keep up the good work! And while you’re (probably not) listening,  I could do without the mosquitos.

Most sincerely,
Human number 3,968,003,732

Categories: Parenthood, Uncategorized