Reezie.com

Tisha B’Av

admin — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 23:51:19 +0000

So, here we are in our new apartment in Cherry Hill. I am blissfully happy, fully aware that yes, I do live in New Jersey. Our move went off basically without a hitch, thanks to my husband’s and my brother-in-law Shloimie’s muscle. Yonah is thrilled with his “new ‘patment” and has already marked his territory by chucking his board books across the living room. We’ve had a very warm welcome here, with plenty of invitations for Shabbos meals and playdates. Our friend Baruch even treated us to pizza at Perlin’s, the local kosher vegetarian hotspot, as an official initiation into the community. It feels like we’ve been here for years, instead of just a few days.

There is no way to adequately describe the wonder of going from the Jewish famine that is Cape Cod to an actual, thriving community. The local ShopRite has an entire section (a ROOM, people, not an aisle) called “The Kosher Experience”. When Shuie and I walked in the other night, my mouth fell open. I practically burst into song a la Maria Von Trapp: “A Butcher that cuts kosher beef to my liking! Prepared Carrot Kugel and lox, oh, how striking! A ten-pack of Empire hot chicken wings, these are a few of my favorite things…”.

Suffice it to say, I am loving Cherry Hill. We are slowly, slowly getting unpacked. One box or suitcase a day is my goal, so I imagine we’ll be settled in officially by the time Kivi leaves for college. It was nice to rediscover all my old dishes and cookware that were sitting, unused, in the basement of the Cape house for almost two years, and use them in my OWN kitchen. I am already champing at the bit to invite guests, but I am going to play it cool and let myself be a guest for a while.

While I am still in the first flush of love with Cherry Hill, I am also suffering from hunger pangs, since today is Tisha B’Av, or the Ninth of the month of Av, a fast day that commemorates the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash, the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, where the Shechina, G-d’s presence, dwelled. Jews would travel there three times a year to offer sacrifices to G-d to atone for sins and to offer thanks for various blessings. It was the place where we could, in a sense, actively interact with G-d. When the Romans came and destroyed it, it was a devastating loss. Other tragic events that have befallen the Jewish people, from the times of the Crusades, to the Inquisition and even the Holocaust, have also eerily fallen on this date. So our fast is also to mourn for those tragedies as well.

However, Jewish tradition holds that even though the Temple was destroyed on Tisha B’Av, it will also be rebuilt on Tisha B’Av, when Moshiach, the Messiah, comes. This is a beautiful idea, which offers hope even in the face of tragic loss. The darkest of times can make for the most joyful and restorative of times. Without loss, we would not know blessing. Without sadness, we would not know true joy. Without pain, we would not grow.

With that in mind, I pray for much growth and reparation for all of us, the coming of Moshiach and the redemption of our people, and never having to fast again.

“Big Water”

admin — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 22:07:50 +0000

This afternoon, my boys and I headed down to the beach for a little down time from the moving prep madness. As we hit the sand, Yonah exclaimed, “Big Water!”. It was sweet and brilliant, but I couldn’t help but think of how much my mother would have loved that moment. In that way, I’m glad to be moving now instead of at the end of the summer, when we would have had more time to enjoy the Cape. There is so much of Mom everywhere in this house and on the beach, especially in Summer, that it’s almost too painful to be here. Her absence is too obvious.

4 days to Moving Day…

Mayday

admin — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 20:23:31 +0000

Four hours to Shabbos and the oven is kaput. Crud.

Have a Nice Day

admin — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 02:32:37 +0000

Here’s the thing about newborn babies. They’re fantastically hard work, they sap your energy and the pay stinks. But then they do one adorable thing, and suddenly it’s all sunshine and lollipops. Take me, for example. Not five minutes ago, Kivi smiled at me and laughed for the first time. My heart, of course, filled to bursting and Shuie and I crowed at him like he’d just recited Shakespeare. I guess I’m a sucker just like the rest of them, sloppy and dense with love over a split-second giggle. Meanwhile, Kivi’s big brother went skinny-dipping in Shari’s pool today, once again proving that kids can get away with stuff that would get their parents arrested.

Working Woman

admin — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 11:26:28 +0000

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, in 2009 55% of mothers (including those with infants) were out in the workforce. So, I guess you can now consider me one of the majority. Yesterday, I was offered the fantastic position of the Director of Admissions/Marketing and PR at the Jewish day school in Cherry Hill. I am so, so excited!

This gig is exactly the sugue out of teaching that I’ve been looking for. I will still be working in a school, but instead of teaching I’ll be writing newsletters, planning publicity events, giving tours of the school, interviewing kids and parents and trying to build up awareness of the Cherry Hill community along with the school itself. See, the idea is, get people excited about the town so they’ll want to move there and send their kids to the school. Since my middle name is “Shmooze”, let’s say this job is a perfect fit. Plus, since it’s only 3 days a week, I’ll still have time to write. So no worries, my dear readers; the entertainment doesn’t stop just because Reezie got a job.

Now that I am gainfully employed, the race is on to get packed up and shipped out of the Cape House. Our lease will start around July 15th, which gives us a little over a week. It’s going to be wild, but I know we’ll pull it off. People from CH are already calling and asking how they can help, which makes me really happy. The worst thing is to move to a new place incognito, feeling like your only companions are the carboard boxes you hauled with you.

As part of my new gig, I’ll be attending a conference in Boston for a couple of days in August, thrusting me from the get-go into the standard Working Mom dilemma: childcare. Who will watch the kiddies? Should I start Kivi on a bottle now? Formula or pumping (for the record, I hate hate hate pumping; it makes me feel like a dairy cow)? If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.

Hot Wheels

admin — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 16:52:41 +0000

The other day, Renee staged an intervention: Enough with the single stroller. If I kept up pushing Yonah and wearing Kivi in the sling, I would end up looking like quasimodo by the time I hit 30. So off we went to Babies R’ Us to finally pick up a double-ride for my dudes. The last time I went to that particular store, I was with my mother. Walking in, memories of her hit me like a sucker punch. I could see her striding up the aisles with authority, talking me through the must-haves for my soon-to-be Yonah. I missed her so much it hurt.

After the initial shock, I followed Renee over to the stroller display, where the souped-up baby rides were angled like the shiny models in a car showroom. As Yonah did his signature double-kvetch in the background (”Eh-Ehhhh!”), Renee and I test-drove a bunch, debating the pros and cons of the side-by-side versus front-to-back seating, stow-ability and how much weight each seat holds. Renee was all about cupholders, while I wanted something that folded easily. I spent more mental energy choosing a stroller for my kids than I did choosing a college for myself.

We finally settled on the Graco Quattro, a front-to-back seater (easier to get through doors) that weighs more than my car but folds up with a flick of the wrist. It’s pretty snazzy to look at, too. Yonah and Kivi seem to dig their new ride, bouncing happily to the park and such while Mommy burns of the Kivi-weight.

I am now officially a mother of two.

Aish.com!

admin — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 17:12:27 +0000

Hooray, Hooray! My new article, “Some Hurts Don’t Heal”, has been published on Aish.com, one of the largest international Jewish websites! Take a peek…http://www.aish.com/f/hotm/97461774.html.

Stolen Moments

admin — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 11:18:58 +0000

One of my favorite writers, Ann Lamott, published a journal she kept the first year of her son Sam’s life. The book is called “Operating Instructions” and is a must-read for new parents, along with anyone who thinks laughing is a good thing. I also recommend it for high school kids as a potent contraceptive; let them read about late-night crying fits and baby bowel movements and then see if they’re so quick to get frisky. Anyway, one of my favorite entries in the book consists of only a single line, written after Ann spent an entire night up with her crying baby: “I hate Sam. He’s scum”. While I wouldn’t call Akiva “scum”, there have definitely been moments when I’ve compared him to a mossy, amoeba-like creature of some sort.

Today, however, Akiva is my golden boy. He slept six hours straight last night! I feel like a new woman, bouncing around at 5 a.m. while the boys both slept, flipping laundry, taking a SHOWER instead of a 30-second hose-down, and even working on my new article in blissful silence.

These are the gifts, people. I take ‘em where I can get ‘em.

Job Hunting

admin — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 10:49:39 +0000

Health gurus from the most holistic to the strictly medical all agree that when you’ve got stress, it shows up somewhere on your body. Some people get headaches or cramps, others have joint trouble or pain in random body parts. When I’m stressed, I feel it in my upper back and in my throat, like an extra fuzzy tennis ball is lodged in there with no intention of moving. I’ve joined the zillion other unemployed Americans who are on the hunt for a job, and now that I’m in the thick of it I feel like I’ve been feasting at the U.S. Open.

The other day I interviewed for a gig at a school in Cherry Hill to head up Admissions and Marketing. It’s a departure from teaching, but I’m excited to try something different. Shuie has a couple of job options in the air, so right now we’re in “The Waiting Place”, as Dr. Suess would call it, when we can’t make a move until we know what’s what. As we all know, being in the moment is not one of my strong suits. In fact, I make an art out of mapping the future in my head, since apparently, if I think about things enough I can make them happen. My mother used to do that, too, when she got stressed. She’d sit up at night rearranging the furniture in her head, and if she was feeling extra pressure, actually move it all the next day.

The good news is that Shuie and I found a sweet little apartment that we both really like. Miracle of miracles, it’s on the ground floor, and it has a little deck for the boys to play on. This is a major plus because they’ll be able to trash the deck and I’ll still be able to have guests over without having to dole out helmets in order to get to the sofa. We should have our job situation ironed out by the end of the week, so we will hopefully be moving on up by mid-July. I’ve gotten the green light to shop through the furniture that’s in storage in the basement, so now I’m the one who gets to do the mental interior decorating (”Armoires for extra storage? Do we need that table if we have a breakfast bar?”). I’m already pooped and I haven’t folded a single onesie yet.

But I’m also really, really excited. Finally, we’re going to have our own place in a community where we can belong. Where Yonah and Kivi can have friends they can grow up with. Where Mommy can have an actual social life and Totty will have people to learn with. Where our families are only a short ride away (trust me, after living at the Cape, an hour-and-a-half trip feels like a joyride).

Looking back, I am grateful for the time I spent longing for this. I grew up in a big, beautiful house with pretty much everything I could want, so my expectations were a little skewed as an adult. Part of me expected that the things I wanted would just fall into my lap somehow, and I was disappointed when I didn’t have my perfect house and perfect circle of lifelong friends five minutes after getting married. But, after everything we’ve gone through, I am so happy just to have a sweet little apartment for me and my family, I would be happy to stay there for the next 20 years.

Is it really July already? Wowza. Countdown to Dad’s wedding is on. August 19th is the big show, a Thursday night in the jungle of Brooklyn. I have a feeling it’s going to be a loaded night for me, but I will go to show support for my Dad. Anyone feel like babysitting?

Strange Appetites

admin — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 17:02:01 +0000

One way that young children acquaint themselves with the world around them is through their sense of taste. Discovering something new, their automatic impulse is to pop it in their mouths to see if it makes for a decent snack. This can provide plenty of mini-adventures for parents who have to dig out all sorts of goodies from their little ones’ traps.

Yonah, I’m afraid, is no exception, and lately he’s gone into oral overdrive. In the past two weeks alone, I’ve had to fish out sand, dirt, bubbles, the wire from my laptop and –no kidding — dog food from his mouth. On top of that, he’s also taken to swiping his little brother’s pacifier, something which never interested him until now. How convenient. I should be grateful that my child is functioning normally and is extra inquisitive, but saving him from choking on bottle caps is getting old, fast.

Mr. Yonah has also decided to enter his terrible twos early, engaging in a brain-draining “Kvetch Marathon” that give my patience muscles a good workout. He also has discovered fun new games like, “How many times can I hit Mommy before she loses it?” and “Throw the football at Akiva’s Head!”. A friend of mine once said that raising toddlers is basically figuring out how to get them to do what you want without hitting them. Man, I so get it now. I never thought I’d have to sit on my hands to keep from shaking my own kid, and he’s not even two yet. By the time he’s a teenager I may need a straightjacket.

In the meantime, Kivi — I still can’t decide if we should spell it “Kivi” or “Kivie”…thoughts? — is eight weeks old today and is doing great. We’re falling into a rudimentary schedule where I torture him by keeping him awake until 10 so he’ll give me a decent night’s sleep. He’s already smiling and picking up his head and he purrs like an olive-skinned siamese kitty. It’s amazing how dark he is compared to his “California Dude” Big Brother. Auntie Jane calls him “Guido”, since, she says, he looks like an Italian plumber.

Shuie gave me my anniversary present the other day, hands down the best gift I’ve ever gotten in my life. Weeks ago he got in touch with one of my favorite authors, Anita Diamant (”The Red Tent”) and asked her to read the manuscript of the memoir I’m working on. She politely declined but offered to look at this blog and sent me an autographed copy of her new book and a handwritten card praising my talent and encouraging me to keep writing. I was awestruck. What can I say? My husband is incredible.

Off to play milkmaid…