It’s all been said before…

Yep.  Those are my boys.  I was pretty sure I would never post  pics of them here, but really, they are the spark for all my deepest thoughts.  I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when I say we all love our kids.  Adore them, even.  We give them everything.  We love them unconditionally and constantly fight our instincts to protect them from everything.  Every.  Little.  Thing.  We willingly offer up our time, our money, our bodies, our thoughts, our sleep. We pass on to them our morals, values, religions, traditions, habits, neuroses.  We offer encouragement, admonishment, praise.  We give of ourselves and work diligently to acquire that which we may not already have for them.  My love for my children seems boundless and even overwhelming at times.  They are the recipients of our affection: I kiss them in the morning, at school drop off, at school pick up and before bed. (yes, that’s at least 4 times a day.  yes, I realize it may not last forever.  That’s why I’m doing it NOW and sharing with you.  I run on a 4-kiss minimum.  That is daily and per child.)  And even when I’m pissed off at them (it happens), they get my energy.  They are in my thoughts and prayers, even.  And you all know how I wobble around that prayer thing.

Parents cannot, however, give their babies a lifetime, good-health guarantee.   Though we can guide them, their overall health is completely out of our control. It seems unfair, doesn’t it?  Really, what else do your kids NEED?  Money?  Nope.  An education?  Helpful, but not necessary.  Family?  My family is as important to me as my health, so bias clouds my judgement.  I would argue that good health may trump even family when we are thinking about need; of course, if your health falters, you need family.  But good health is a blessing that I am sure most people take for granted.  I know I did.  And to be honest, I remind myself every day not to take my crappy health for granted!  Having a sappy day, I guess, since I just read about Dylan, a Mass. student defies heart woes to enjoy baseball.  Read his story and then go hug your kids/spouse/parents/siblings/dog just because you can with your good health. My heart goes at to him and his family and the thousands of other big-hearted folks out there.  Dylan, I get it.  Really, I do.  Keep on keeping on.

Equine Connection

When is the last time you looked at a racing form?  I know, not something you get to do every day…

I enjoyed a little rest and relaxation at the Arkansas Derby last weekend.  You could say I poured over the racing form and made my guess–uh, I mean bets.  And I hit the Derby exacta!  Now, before you start thinking about joining my posse or enquiring about body guard positions, let me just say that the favorites won and placed.  I boxed them.  $4 bet.  I also wheeled the favorite.  Made a few win bets on the long shots.  The day ended up neutral, if you look at it from a purely financial standpoint.  But I don’t, so I have a big check mark in the “w” column and I like it.

You can get a ton of info from a racing program.  Duh, I guess that’s why they exist.  You may have already known that there is an area on the form that indicates whether a horse is taking any medications.  Did you notice? Every horse in the derby (and I believe every horse that day) was listed with an “L”, indicating s/he was taking Lasix.  Have you ever heard of it?  Do you care?  I mean, I wouldn’t necessarily care except that I, too, take Lasix.  And I’m no racehorse (FYI).  I felt a kinship with those beautiful animals because, if for no other reason, I know that Lasix sucks.  Big time. It’s a pretty potent diuretic, helpful for the bighearted.  And, clearly, horses who race.

I flew home from Arkansas the next day, weighted down with all my winnings (not).  I got bumped from my flight and received a fairly sizable voucher (and another check in the win column).  Let’s just say it was pretty worth it to get paid to sit at the airport, ALONE and read a book (In The Water They Can’t See You Cry by Amanda Beard.  great book.  women, moms, budding athletes need to read).  So, I flew to see my family (including my niece and all nephews), hit the exacta (did I mention that, yet?) and got paid to read my book.  All in all, not a bad trip.  Normal, even.  NORMAL.  I have an enlarged heart and am enjoying small bites of normal. Win, win, win.

Heretic?

Well, it’s that time of year again.  I’m thinking about lamb’s blood and baby bunnies, deliberating the “He is Risen”signs, comparing charoset recipes, and eating matzoh. Normal spring time stuff.

And it seems like a great time to share something that may be a little…confusing. Upsetting, maybe?  Oh well, it’s not like that stops me from thinking it!  There’s just not a proper preamble, so here’s the deal: I do not like religious services.   What a load off.  I may need to use this site as a confessional more often. I refuse to believe that I’m the only adult person who feels this way.  I may be the only person who says it, but surely there are…others.  Anyone?

I know I am not “supposed” to say such things.  I have heard that I “should” go to synagogue.  I have been told and taught that performing rituals will make me a “good” Jew.  Please don’t misunderstand me here:  I like being a Jew.  I enjoy my Jewish traditions.  You know, the fun ones like dressing up for Purim, lighting the shabbat candles and making hamantaschen.  I love making challah with my boys and making chocolate matzohs for them for Pesach.  I like giving tzedakkah and celebrating simchas with my extended family.  But I just don’t enjoy the services.  And I never have.  Ever.  To me, religious services are simply words on a page, in a foreign language that I don’t understand.  Even the English version doesn’t work for me. It’s  usually hanging out nearby on the left side of the page, glaring at me and silently mocking. But it’s there in case I’m not interested in reiterating words that have zero meaning to me, I guess to give me something to do to fill my time while everyone around me–seemingly–knows/enjoys/gets/reveres what s/he is reading.  Have you actually read the English text in a Jewish prayer book?  Seriously, I think it may have been edited by William Wordsworth, maybe even Shakespeare.  Or by an elderly man (yes, man.  It had to be a man) circa 1955.  Check it out with a critical eye and I know you’ll see where I’m coming from on that one.

Note:  I realize that Judaism isn’t new, fresh and hip as far as religions go.  I get it.  It’s old news.  I appreciate the ancient part.  Organized religion just isn’t for me.  That should only alienate about 95% of my friends and family who are reading along. I don’t feel it.  Is anyone with me?  Is anyone still reading?  Mom, are you there?

Through the years, I’ve berated myself for not learning/knowing Hebrew though I’ve never chosen to take a class or move to Israel.  I keep thinking there is something wrong with my hearing or auditory processing because I just can’t seem to pick up the songs and chants.  It really boils down to the fact that I don’t love it. It doesn’t move me.  I have no feel for services–well, at least not the way I have experienced them in my first 40 years. And, yes, of course there are things in our lives that we have to do do that are boring/we don’t like/with which we don’t agree.  I’m teaching my kids that lesson…but surely there is more when it comes to religion?  Simply because it has always been “that way” or because someone wrote it in Hebrew thousands of years ago doesn’t always make it so, does it?  Judaism is a very real part of me.  It defines a part of who I am—a part that I like, even.  I take issue with the rigidity and with the part of religion that doesn’t encourage me to celebrate who I am (more of a feminist).  I realize this may not bode well for my young children–in the Bar Mitzvah sense or in the religious guidance from mom category–which is the only reason I consider it an issue!  I also realize that my husband will find this information less than promising. I think I just haven’t found my spiritual home, yet.  Did I mention that I am 40?  I thought I would have found it by now…

Is this heresy?  Perhaps.  Craziness?  Some may think so.  Honesty and truth?  For sure.

After writing the above thoughts, I did a little research (aka, I googled).  Before you slam the door in my face, call my mother in distress or schedule an intervention, please consider reading Time magazine’s cover story on March 12 “The 10 ideas that are changing your life.”  Specifically, review number 4:  The rise of the nones.  You can read about it all over the place, but I liked this Op-ed piece  http://articles.latimes.com/2012/mar/25/opinion/la-oe-clayton-emergingchurch-20120325 if you don’t have Time (pun, intended).

Be who you be

Yes, those two cuties are my sons.  And, yes, that is a mohawk on the little one.  It’s actually in a fairly tame stage, a little grown out in this photo.  And a little less skinheadish looking than usual.  Yep, that’s right, I said skinheadish.  Sometimes I think that my youngest looks like he’s grooming to be the next leader of the Aryan race with all that blonde mohawk, fair skin, blue-eyedness that he is.  And he has the strong-willed personality to match.  Only, he’s Jewish, so perhaps you’ll be relieved to know that that career choice is out.

This story isn’t new, but worth repeating in case you’re not a Facebook kind of person/friend.  As I was driving through the Sunday school carpool  to pick up my boys, I was stopped by the Rebbetzin who leads the school and teaches there, too.  According to her, my son wasn’t making a “nice” smile during a picture-taking opportunity with the torah.  No surprise there.  Apparently, when asked why he was smiling “like that” and “what would your mother say?”,  his response was “have you seen my haircut? how do you think I got away with it? My mom is a big fan of self-expression. She will be just fine with my picture.”  I LOVE that he has been listening!  Self expression rules.

Felines, females, Rosa Parks

10 year old: “I don’t get it. All she did was sit in the front of a bus. What’s the big deal?”

How does a conversation with my kids go from “cat people” and “dog people” (we are dog people, FWIW) to gender equality to civil rights? It just does, and that may be my favorite part of having kids. Our discussion (in the car. we are always in the car.) created the opportunity for me to water the “women and men are to be treated equally” seed. I was especially thankful for the opportunity because it’s important to me and I wanted to counteract what my kids may be gleaning from today’s political climate.  Yes, kids glean.  You do not realize it while it’s happening, but trust me.  And then, they wow you in conversation.  Kinda like adults… but sincere, genuine (better).

Would you ever have thought that in 2012 women’s reproductive health rights would be up for debate, dissection or discussion?  Women need to be in the know about todays political hot topics, for sure.  I argue that so do the guys.  Well, at least the ones who hang out with me.  Men are less likely to take these debates to heart–obviously–but I believe men need to be aware that politicians are discussing the inalienable rights of their mothers, sisters, wives, daughters.  And so it starts while parenting young children.  These debates feel as crazy and surreal to me as the idea that a human shouldn’t be allowed to choose where s/he wants to sit on a bus, stand, become educated, eat, shop, or pee.  During the drive, as we were talking about Rosa Parks, the local middle school was letting the kids out for the day. On one side of the street were two teen girls walking together: one black, one white. Across the street were two more teens walking together: an Asian girl and a black boy. “That’s why sitting on the front of the bus was a big deal,” I pointed out to my kids. “I don’t get it mom.  It was just a seat on the bus.”  It’s always been “that way” to my 10 and 8 year old: any person of any color, race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation can walk freely, communicate with, commiserate with, sit with, (etc.) any other person s/he chooses. And I’m super glad. At first, I was concerned that they were missing out on a significant opportunity and a racial equality education, but, really is that the lesson for this generation?  I don’t think so.  Frankly, I’m starting to wonder if school is even the place…but that’s another post for another day.  Now Rosa Parks and her actions live on in history as, literally, the tipping point for the world’s self-awareness.  She is the woman who opened doors for millions; charting a path for people of color was just the beginning.  Clearly, there will be a multitude of other lessons for these boys.