I have a new mantra I am forcing myself to constantly repeat in my head: “Rain is Good”. I had to say it quite a few times today, a particularly cold and damp one. I mantra-ed when I was pushing a triple-layered Yonah up the street to Ruchama’s, again when I was sitting in gridlocked traffic — in Israel, rain has the same effect on drivers that, say, a full-scale blizzard would on Americans — and again later on as I was walking through the shuk, my sopping wet ski jacket, skirt and tights all sticking to me and my breath coming out in clouds of steam. As I’ve written before, water in Israel is on short supply, so it is actually a huge blessing that it’s been raining so much. Still, it is not fun shlepping through cold and wet and it makes it extra hard to go out to classes and meetings at night.

This morning I went over to Simchat Shlomo for my Tuesday morning classes with Leah Golomb, followed by another class with musician Shlomo Katz, who told amazing stories while playing his guitar. Today was a special day of learning in honor of Reb Shlomo’s yartzeit and it was absolutely amazing. The room was packed with people all singing together and honoring the spirit of a truly exceptional person. I was very, very touched and left practically floating. I want to learn there full-time, but it may take some extra work if I want to improve my text skills also. We’ll see where I’m supposed to end up.

After a quick slog through the rain with Yonah we settled into our WARM apartment for the afternoon. As I was changing out of my wet skirt and tights in the bedroom, I heard Yonah begin crying hysterically. I rushed out to find him sitting on the floor, holding out his finger. It wasn’t bleeding and from what I could tell there was nothing around him on which he could have pinched it, so I had no idea what happened. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bee slowly crawling away, clearly on its last legs, post-sting. I was absolutely terrified; what if Yonah was allergic? I have heard nightmare stories of kids who go into anaphylactic shock after bee stings and are gone within minutes. The time it would take to get from our apartment to the hospital would be too long; please, the time from our apartment UP THE STREET would be too long. Thankfully, that moment Chaim called and came right over to help. I was relieved to have him there, and even more relieved to see that after a few minutes of rocking and kisses Yonah seemed to be fine and was back to his happy self. I cannot tell you how scary those few minutes were, and how unbelievably grateful I am that everything turned out okay. In the meantime, I killed that bee with the kind of venom you see in a Quentin Tarantino movie.

Again, the weather and my pregnant-ness have dissuaded me from going out to a class tonight and I am resolving not to beat myself up over it. This is technically winter in Israel, and winter is the time to hibernate, so I’m doing just that.

I had an interesting conversation with a Sephardi gentleman this afternoon (Sephardim are one group of Jews of middle-eastern or Mediterranean descent, while the other group, Ashkenazim, are usually of eastern-European descent. They differ in certain customs, but the basic laws of Judaism are the same for both groups). He told me that Israel was a difficult country to live in, not only because of the tough-as-nails attitudes of many of the people here, but also because there is tension between Ashkenazim and Sephardim. Certain schools, he told me, will not allow Sephardi students to attend, citing their “stupidity” and “dark skin”. I was absolutely horrified. It sounded like something out of a bad 50’s movie or South African Apartheid. Although I knew there were some problems between the two groups in the past (Yossi told me Carmela’s family didn’t want him to marry her because he was Ashkenaz and she was Sephardi), but hearing about something like that going on today made me immensely sad. It seems so antithetical to what being Jewish is all about: “Love your brother as yourself”. Rabbi Akiva, one of the most revered Rabbis in Jewish history, said that that one law was the essence of Judaism. How can someone say that they’re a “good Jew” while they’re spitting on their brother? Many rabbis teach that one of the reasons for the Jewish exile is “Sinas Chinam”, or baseless hatred between people, particularly between fellow Jews. When I hear about these kinds of issues, here and in the States (and in the States it’s even harder, Orthodox against Conservative against Reform against Reconstructionist and back again) all I can think of is how we are shooting ourselves in the foot. At the end of the day we are all Jews, we are all people and we need to love each other. And if we can’t quite muster up “love”, then at least we can give respect to a fellow human being.

I just want to share one unbelievable thing that I heard in my class today. Leah was talking about when someone has a desire to pray for something, like good health or sustenance or even something small, like catching the bus on time. In this particular case she was talking about Sarah, and how deeply she prayed for her son, Yitzchak (Isaac). The desire we have was given to us by Gd BECAUSE he wants us to pray; not only that, but He is praying also, whispering back to us our deepest desires. While Sarah was praying for a child, Gd whispered, “Wouldn’t it be amazing if Sarah could have a child”…Entering a convenant with Gd, Leah said, quoting Reb Shlomo, means that we are turning to him from the place within ourselves that is beyond our deepest desires, to our most inner essence. When we turn to Gd from that place, He turns back to us and reveals himself to us in that deepest place within ourselves. It made me think of the many clamors I have going on inside, voices telling me the things I want or the way I think things should be. When I can quiet those voices and just listen, once in a while I can hear Gd tell me what He wants for me. And, of course, it always turns out to be better than anything I ever imagined for myself.

Yesterday, my friend Elayne and I prayed together that Gd give me clarity that I’m on the right path and to show me if I should be doing something different. Once in a while, I catch myself in moments that I have dreamed before, not like deja vu, but more like something I know I’m meant to experience but just haven’t yet. In those moments I am reassured that I am moving in the right direction. Today, after I picked up Yonah, I opened the door to my apartment and had one of those moments. I had dreamed of this apartment, and dreamed of myself walking into it at some point. The memory just didn’t surface until today, exactly when I needed it. I felt like Gd was winking at me and saying, “I got your back, kid”.

This morning Yonah and I met up with the girls from school for a trip to the Begin Heritage Center, a biographical museum of the former Israeli prime minister right outside of the old city. While I was originally planning to skip the trip and go to the Malcha mall (a replay of my high school days), at the last minute I decided to go, seeing how unlikely it was that I would decide to visit the museum on my own, and I figured it would be fun to bring Yonah along so my friends could see him.

We arrived in the middle of the tour of the museum, which is basically set up like a movie set. Different rooms represent different eras of Begin’s life, from his birth in Poland to his imprisonment in a Soviet Camp to his arrival in Israel, his battles as part of the Haganah (Israeli army) and later, his election to prime minister. Each room played a movie that reenacted major plot points in Begin’s story, which we Americans were able to understand with our pre-programmed, English-speaking headphones. One room even had all of the Begin’s real furniture from their Jerusalem apartment, which they donated to the museum when it was built. Visitors are welcome to sit on their couches and put their feet up on the coffee table (well, not really, but you know what I mean…). Some of the girls were incredulous that this was actually Begin’s real furniture, but our guide explained that the Begin’s always had an open-door policy; every Saturday night when Shabbat was over, Begin would open his home to visitors who wanted to talk to him about issues or concerns they were having about how the government was being run.

The last leg of the tour was in a proper movie theater-type room, which highlighted Begin’s accomplishments as prime minister, including his Nobel-prize-winning peace agreement with Egyptian president Anwar El Sadaat and President Jimmy Carter, his rebuilding of slums in Israel, his commitment to providing free education for all israeli citizens and opening Israel’s borders to Jews everywhere who needed a home to come to. One of his most recognized missions was when he brought Jews from Ethiopia back to Israel and gave them new lives here. Unfortunately, despite his many accomplishments, after the passing of his wife and the outbreak of the Lebanon war, a devastated Begin suddenly resigned from his post and secluded himself from the public eye in his apartment for the next ten years, until his death. At the end of the tour there are three small glass cases that hold his Nobel peace prize, the signed Camp David agreement, and a speech hand-written by Begin that he gave at the White House when the peace agreement was signed. I was amazed at how available everything was; you could literally press your face inches away from these historic objects. Our tour guide made it clear that while Begin was the target of much controversy and criticism during his tenure (particularly because of the Camp David Agreements, during which he gave up land in the Sinai), he is still one of Israel’s most beloved, celebrated and respected prime ministers, noted for his integrity and incorruptible character.

I think out of everyone, Yonah had the best time at the Begin Center. He loved the movies and, of course, everyone fussed over him. In Begin’s “Living Room”, he wanted to touch all the pictures, especially the ones of Begin’s wife, Aliza, and during the final movie montage he fell asleep in my friend Yiskah’s lap. By the end of our tour, we were both pooped out, so home we went for a long, long nap.

I had been planning to head out to a class this afternoon but the weather, my exhaustion and my mood kept me home. Tonight I’m supposed to go out but heavy rains are coming on and off, which does not exactly get me jazzed about trekking up my street. It looks like it’s going to be early to bed for me, once again. I try not to kick myself too much for not doing the things I “should” be doing; although each day here really is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, there’s only so much I can do between my limited energy and taking care of Yonah. My father and I had a discussion today about this window of time I currently have before Bean comes and while Yonah is still so little. “One day you’re going to be supermom,” he said. “It’s going to be all about your kids, which means that time just for you is not going to be so easy to come by. Right now is an opportunity you may not have again for a very long time, so make sure you’re doing the things that you really want to do for yourself”. That was encouraging, because today I seriously considered packing up and going home. I keep thinking that if I’m going to deal with these hard feelings–alright, let’s tell it like it is: Depression–I may as well do it at home, where I have a support system of people who know and care about me. But I also know that if I went home I would be just as lost and regret leaving this huge opportunity on top of it. So if I’m going to feel this way regardless, at least I can do something I’ve always wanted to do at the same time.

Tomorrow is Reb Shlomo Carlebach’s yartzeit, so I’ll be going over to Simchat Shlomo for a couple of classes. Since I’m going to be missing tomorrow’s Chumash Class, I need to do some homework tonight and catch up on everything I’m going to miss. Should be interesting trying to tackle the text on my own, without the help of my teacher.

Now for a random tangent. I have two new obsessions that I feel the need to tell the world about, the first being my new immersion blender. For those of you who don’t know what an immersion blender is, think of a long, white electric massager from the Sharper Image but instead of a vibrating pad at the end, picture a tiny revolving blade. What could such a thing be for, you ask? Well, should you decide to make thick, pureed or creamy soups, all you need to do is stick that bad boy in and you’re good to go. The thing is brilliant, not only for the convenience but because I’ve now found a way to trick my son into eating all sorts of vegetables.

My other obsession is with an Israeli musician named Tzipia (AKA Micha Hyman), whose album is all mellow guitar with a distinct Spanish flavor. It’s a double-winner because I can play Jewish music for Yonah without wanting to shoot someone (all the Jewish kids stuff I’ve found out there is either really lame or really obnoxious). It is currently on constant repeat on my itunes. If you’d like to check out his stuff, visit his website: http://shemeshmusic.com/Tzipia.html. Really great stuff.

This morning I had the luxury of being the only one to show up to my Chumash class (one of my classmates was sick and the other was away) and got a one-on-one session with my teacher, Devorah Rubin. She asked me a couple of questions about what brought me to Midreshet Rachel, which turned into an hour-long conversation about losing my mother and struggling with Emunah (faith). It was really refreshing to be able to take some of my questions to her, an opportunity I wouldn’t have had if my friends had come in today.

One of the things I’m currently struggling with, for example, is the idea of a “Punishing Gd”. I should preface this by saying that a few years back I developed a relationship with a “Higher Power” of my understanding, because the Gd concept of my childhood was alienating and, quite frankly, really scary. I envisioned a Gd that was all-loving, always there for me, and doing everything for the good, even if it didn’t seem “good” in that moment, and built up from there. Rabbis both ancient and modern describe Hashem, the Jewish Gd, in much the same way, but looking at the text at face value sometimes gives me a much different picture. Take what I’m learning now in Chumash. As they approach the land of Israel, the Jewish people decide to send 12 spies in to scope out the land and come back with a report. Their report of the land turns out to be disparaging and as a result, Hashem has them wander around the desert for 40 more years, during which time all of the men of that generation between the ages of 20-60 died, thereby losing their portion in the land of Israel. Pretty harsh, don’t you think?

Devorah and I discussed two concepts that gave me a lot of food for thought. In response to my queries about the “punishing Gd”, Devorah described to me a parent who hits a child when he or she is trying to teach them to stay away from dangerous things, like running into the street or touching something hot. What seems like Gd “punishing” is actually his loving guidance to dissuade us from doing things that would hurt us. I see it, but I still need to chew on it for a while. The 12 spies, Devorah and I learned together, were acting out of a crisis of faith. We read a midrash (biblical interpretation) that included the following parable: A king finds a bride for his son. She’s a real catch: beautiful, from a good family and rich. The king goes to his son and tells him all about the bride he’s picked out. “I want to see her,” the prince said. “I don’t believe that she’s as great as you say.” “What if I say he can’t see her?” the king thought to himself. “Then he’ll say ‘Oh, she must be ugly’ and he’ll think I lied to him”. Finally, the king decides to let him see the girl. “Go ahead and check her out,” he says to the prince. “But even if you like her, you can’t have her anymore because you didn’t trust my judgment. I’m going to give her to your son instead”. This story exactly parallels what happened with the spies. Gd already told the people of Israel that he was bringing them to a land that was flowing with milk and honey; why did they need to go and scope the place out for themselves? Because they didn’t trust Gd. They wanted to take control, and in so doing, they ended up losing their reward, which went to their children instead.

The question now is: Was that really fair? How many times have I had a crisis of faith? Truth be told, I’m in the middle of one right now. I trust Gd with my health and with my family, but there are plenty of things in my life where I am certainly lacking in emunah. I suppose the difference between me and the spies, at least in this case, is that they ACTED on their lack of faith, whereas I just stew and project and make myself nuts. I’m not actually doing anything to change the end results. This doesn’t mean that the spies’ punishment sits right with me now, just that I understand the source of it. This struggle, I am finding, is very much a part of the Jewish journey. There are so many question marks, loose ends, things beyond our understanding that have perplexed even the greatest scholars for years. The choice is whether to throw up your hands in disgust and abandon ship or shrug your shoulders and say, “I may not get it, but Gd does”. Eventually, everyone has to make the choice to cross the bridge from reason to faith. Or not. And then there are those, like me, who constantly run back and forth to keep things interesting.

I had an interesting experience today with a very charedi (religious) man in Kiryat Moshe. While I was asking him for directions he kept his eyes down, refusing to look directly at me. I understood why; he was practicing “Shmiras HaEynayim” (Guarding of the Eyes), meaning he was trying to keep his vision clear of anything that could lead him to temptation or impure thoughts. Now, I’m not walking around in a miniskirt and thigh-high python boots (today), but I am still forbidden property, being another man’s wife. While I understand the intention here, it is still disconcerting to talk to someone who refuses to look at you. This isn’t the first time this has happened to me; whenever it does I always think to myself, “Is it really such a holy thing if, as a result, you make someone else feel uncomfortable?”. Again, there are two sides to everything (and often more), and everyone has an opinion about it.

I have some gastronomical news, for those who are interested. Today, for lunch and dinner, I was able to sit down and actually ENJOY a plate of sauteed peppers. I was so thrilled! For those of you have have been through morning sickness, the power of certain foods to throw off your entire system for a matter of months is astounding. It is a blessed miracle to be restored to my former appetite. Here’s hoping that at 15 weeks in, we’re finally heading into the clear, nausea-wise. By the way, babycenter.com tells me that Little Bean is now the size of an apple, 4 inches long and weighing around 2.5 ounces. I’m starting to feel little flutters in my belly which is so exciting; I missed it from the moment Yonah was born. In fact, later that night I started crying because I missed being pregnant so much (well, that and the tidal wave of postnatal hormones). I “popped” over Shabbat so now I have a little belly that clearly says, “I’m pregnant”, as opposed to “I should have skipped that extra piece of cheesecake” (which I don’t eat, but still…).

This afternoon, Yonah and I took a walk in the cool autumn air (it’s been raining a lot, which makes it cold and damp) and stopped at the salon a few doors down from our apartment so Mommy could get her eyebrows waxed. The woman behind the desk offered to take Yonah so I could have a few minutes to relax. What a cool cucumber he was! By the time I came out he was sitting behind the front desk helping her enter appointments into the computer. I am so thankful that he is such a chilled-out little guy (KAH - ward off the evil eye) and what a social butterfly! Ruchama tells me that he plays beautifully with the other kids in his playgroup. He cries a little when I leave him but stops the minute his friends arrive, and today he started crying when all of them left! One day I will stop abusing my blog privileges to brag about my son, but today isn’t it. Sorry.

Layla Tov. Good night.

The good news is, after almost of week of sick Bochner Boys, I think we can safely say that both Shuie and Yonah are on the mend. The bad news is, whatever they had they’ve given to me. It was only a matter of time, really, before I got sick. If it wasn’t from my boys I probably would have picked something up from the girls at school or from whatever is floating around in the air these days now that the weather is getting colder.

Oh, yes. Israeli weather is now sweater-worthy and the rainy season has begun. This is actually good news because Israel is in the middle of a severe water shortage, so much so that if a household uses more than their quota, they get slapped with a hefty fine. This is why everyone in Israel was required, by today, to declare the number of people living in their household, because otherwise the government assumes there’s only one and charges accordingly. Our landlord Yossi hounded us all week for the required paperwork (passports, letters from our school stating that we’re here as students) so he could let the powers-that-be know that he and Carmela are not using six-people’s worth of water. This water-conservation culture was hard to get used to at first, particularly coming from a wasteful society like the U.S. (sorry, guys, you know it’s true), but it’s not such a big thing now. One trick I picked up was for doing the dishes: You wet the sponge with suds and scrub everything down and then turn on the water just to rinse them off. It works, and afterwards you feel like a good person.

Shabbat was relatively quiet. Seth came to stay but he was sick with a cold (see a trend here?) and we all ended up going to bed at 8 p.m. Today’s lunch was a full house but came and went quickly. Yonah, however, decided that today was going to be one long party and proceeded to stay up from 5:45 this morning until 3 o’clock this afternoon when we practically had to force him to take a nap. He woke up two hours later VERY cranky and was back in bed for the night by 6:30. Wait, scratch that. It’s 8 p.m. and we hear Yonah talking to himself. Could he be up for another round…?

We have a full week coming up. This Monday my school is planning a trip to the Begin cultural center, which is an Israeli political history museum. While I do find Israeli history very interesting, I may skip the trip so I can do some learning somewhere else. Tuesday is Reb Shlomo Carlebach’s yartzeit (the anniversary of his death), which is being commemorated with a day of learning at Simchat Shlomo followed by music and stories at Red Shlomo’s kever (grave) at Har HaMenuchos (The Hill of the Resting Ones), not far from Nachlaot. We are definitely planning on attending. Tuesday night is my first evening women’s seminar, “Going Deep”, which a discussion forum to develop leadership in the women of the group. It’s actually being held at Shuie’s school. I’m sure other little adventures will pop up in the interim, but in the meantime we’ve got much to look forward to.

Today was day 2 of sick Bochner Boys, which meant Mommy was home again. While I don’t mind some down time, too much of it is not good for my head. I’m the type that needs to be out and having life going on, and I need to see people besides my husband and son. This isn’t to say I don’t adore them both, but women need other women around. When I have too much time alone, it’s only a matter of time before I start wandering into dangerous neighborhoods in my head that I have no business being in.

There one in particular — let’s call it Projectionville — where scenes from my future play out with the worst possible results. Today my visit consisted of a post-new baby meltdown while my family wandered around homeless after our arrival back in the States. On-not-so great days, images like this send me right into the Pit of Anxiety (conveniently located off of the Fear Freeway). On better days, I have the good sense to pick up the phone and talk to someone about it before I decide to retreat forever into the Cave of Paralysis, where I can stew in self-pity and live off of moss for the rest of my days.

Today I went with option number two, and gave a ring to my friend Marlene in the States. Marlene is a mentor for young mothers (and a mother of two herself) so she was the perfect person to talk to about my anxieties about L.B.’s arrival in April. I must say that the call was one of my more brilliant moves; Marlene talked me down from the edge of the Pit and set me back on the path to the present moment. Apparently, my anxieties are normal, and every mother, whether she has 2 kids or 10, struggles to find that balance between motherhood and selfhood, no matter how together she seems on the outside. What a relief to know I’m not alone. Today, Marlene is at the top of my gratitude list.

I was able to escape for an hour this afternoon for a quick run to the grocery. Seth (Marlene’s son) is coming to stay with us for Shabbat and we’re having a slew of guests for lunch — Daniel, Rachel and Shmuel Yaakov Eden, Shloimie and two of his friends of Yeshiva — so I needed to stock up on goodies. While I was there I had two very interesting experiences. The first was at the checkout counter, where all was calm and business-as-usual until, suddenly, the alarm went off. It was an intense-sounding noise (almost like an air-raid drill) and I felt a grip in my chest. While I live in a peaceful, upscale neighborhood, that alarm was a blatant reminder that I do, in fact, live in Israel, one of the most politically-charged hotbeds of violence in the Middle East. Despite myself, I expected the store to start shaking with the falling of bombs; I almost abandoned my cart to run home to Shuie and Yonah. After about 30 seconds or so, the noise subsided and all went back to normal. But I was definitely shaken for a while afterward.

The other thing that happened was as I was leaving the store. I heard someone calling, “Rebbetzin,” and I looked up to see Tzaddok, a school friend of Shloimie’s who I met at our Simchat Beit HaShoeva. I guess he forgot my name, which is understandable, but I found it amusing that he chose to address me with the title of respect given to Rabbi’s wives (I guess he thought Shuie is a rabbi already). When I heard it, all I could think of was, “Who, me?”, but I also got a little thrill from it. I never would have thought this about myself, but becoming a Rebbetzin is something I’m actually really looking forward to, not just for the perks of being a rabbi’s wife (what exactly they are I’m not sure), but because one day I want to be a real “Rebbetzin”, a teacher for Jewish women. As strange as it was to hear, Gd willing soon it will be something I’ll have to get used to.

I was going to keep the menu simple for this Shabbat, but you know me: I’ve got to do at least one interesting thing. Right now I’m making cornbread-stuffed butternut squash with apples. Wish me luck!

Every woman has a vice, you know, that one thing she absolutely cannot resist. For some women it’s designer handbags. For others it’s high-end cosmetics. Still others would sign away their souls for a killer pair of heels. As for me, I go gaga for gourmet health food.

I know what you’re thinking: HEALTH FOOD? How can that be a vice? And you would be right, as far as the food itself goes. Healthy, organic, nutritious food is great, and great for you. There is a gorgeous nook of a health food store store in the Mercaz called Anise, which makes me giddy whenever I walk in. All I have to do is look at the dark wood shelves stocked with gorgeous, all natural snacks, bottles of vitamins, whole grain flours and breads, exotic juices, Asian seasonings and, of course, my precious tofu, and I’m in heaven. The only problem is, the cost of one spree there could probably buy me a flight back to the States. This is why I like to walk by Anise and sometimes even look at it, but rarely do I ever actually walk in.

Today, however, was a different story. After waking up to find both Shuie and Yonah sick, I knew I was in for an interesting day. School was out, obviously, but I still needed some me-time. While both my boys took a morning snooze, I snuck out of the house to pick up the fixings for a big pot of chicken soup. Maybe it was the fresh morning air, the bright sunshine or the bustle of Ramat Eshkol waking up, but as I cut through the park on my way to the Mercaz, I decided that this caregiver deserved a little treat. So, into Anise I went, and it was glorious. I left one jar of almond butter, one bottle of Apple Vinegar, one bottle of Balsamic Vinegar, one bottle of Cranberry Pomegranate Blueberry Juice, 2 bags of whole wheat pasta and 1 bag of brown rice pasta and 2 packs of tofu richer. Perhaps to you this may not seem the most enviable of bounties, but to me, it is pure bliss, no matter what kind of dent it made in my bank account.

I am so glad I gave myself that little pick-me-up because most of the rest of the day was spent at home, entertaining a very runny-nosed Yonah. By the end of the afternoon I was ready to tear my hair out, so I called my friend Nomi to arrange a playdate with her and Yaakov Moshe (AKA Yanki-Mo). Off we went for a walk and for a visit to the playground, where Yonah went on the seesaw and tried to eat pebbles. We came home for dinner (Yonah had rice noodles with mashed sweet potatoes and carrots and margarine, in case you’re interested), a quick bath and then it was early to bed for little man.

My newest excitement is a Rosh Chodesh celebration for women at Moshav Modi’in in two weeks. I talked to the woman in charge who tells me it’s going to be a full day of classes, music, yoga, and woman power. And the best part? Kiddies are welcome! Yonah and I are so there. If I can round up enough people, I may arrange to rent a Sherut (a taxi/van arrangement), so I don’t have to stress about how to get back to Jerusalem after the festivities are over. As for my own Rosh Chodesh celebration, it is definitely still happening, but probably on the next day. That way, I can steal ideas from the classes I go to on the Moshav. Sneaky, eh?

This morning I dropped Yonah off with his new mitapelet, Ruchama — a very successful first day, I’m pleased to report — and headed off to Simchat Shlomo for a morning of classes with powerhouse Leah Golomb. Leah is a New Jersey native and older hippie who was a follower of Reb Shlomo Carlebach and made aliyah to Israel over 30 years ago. She is a long-time resident of Moshav Modi’in and an absolutely amazing teacher. Not only is her knowledge base astounding, but she has a dynamic style that makes the most ancient teachings immediate and deeply personal. And, she’s really funny.

I was completely inspired watching Leah in action, not only by what she was teaching, but because I want to do what she does one day in very much a similar fashion. More and more I’m realizing that one of my personal gifts is the ability to communicate and give over ideas; I’m hoping to eventually use it to inspire other women. I’m making a concerted effort to surround myself with women like Leah while I’m here so that I can learn as much as I can from them.

In between classes, my friend Batsheva and I were chatting about our kids. I was bragging about Yonah, of course, saying what a delightful kid he is, how happy and easygoing his disposition. “My son was like that,” Batsheva said. “But he had a hard time after my daughter was born”. I suddenly felt this rock of anxiety settle in my chest: “How are things going to change when the next one comes?”

Later, Yonah, Shuie and I met up for my first-trimester ultrasound. As soon as the bouncing Bean showed up on the screen, I felt the anxiety kicking up again. Yonah was extra squirmy and overtired during the appointment and all I could think was, “How am I going to be able to take care of TWO?”. I finally feel like I have a groove with Yonah; I have a nice balance between my own life and mommyhood. What’s going to happen when another one comes into the picture? I look at mothers here with five, six, TEN kids and I’m mystified by how they do it. Then, of course, there’s the prospect of resettling in the States after the new baby comes, Gd willing. The thought of travelling and starting over with a three-month-old and a two-year-old is already exhausting me. And what if I have to go back to work?

Now, I have enough experience in freaking out to know that if I want to live a sane and useful life I have to stay in the moment. I know I am not ready for another baby RIGHT NOW; I have six more months to prepare. I know that Gd doesn’t give me anything I can’t handle, but man, this is a biggie.

Of course, these are the moments when I miss my mother the most. I wish I could call her so she could assure me that everything will be fine and that she knows I can handle it. When I was pregnant with Yonah I told her I was afraid I was too selfish to be a good mom. “You’ll see,” she said. “The minute you see his face your whole life will change”. She was right. So I suppose I have to just think of what she would probably say and take strength from that. “Two is nothing,” she’s probably tell me. “I had four kids under the age of five and I lived to tell about it”.

Change is so scary, isn’t it? But at the same time, it’s kind of amazing what life brings my way. Take the little baby I saw on the ultrasound today. Four months ago that baby didn’t exist. Now it’s hopping and dancing in my uterus as if Prince is being wired in on full blast. And the best part? Yonah waved hi to it! Look at this cast of characters Gd has brought into my life in only three years: Shuie, Yonah, L.B. (Little Bean), my stepdaughters Sima Ellie and Huvi, and the myriad of friends I’ve made from all over the globe. If you had told me three years ago that I’d be married, a mother, a stepmother, an orthodox Jew AND residing in a foreign country, I probably would have had a meltdown, wondering how I could handle so much. But I suppose I took it all on one baby step at a time. This new baby is just the next step. As my friend just told me over the phone, “You have the anxiety and suffer now, but when it happens, it’s completely different from what you expected”.

Here’s hoping.

I know Jews don’t do the whole “Saint” thing, but if we did I would nominate my landlord, Yossi. Since he found out I was pregnant (yes, I will admit I am already playing that card), he has been driving me and Yonah up to Rivka’s every morning and then dropping me off at my bus stop so I don’t have to hike up the hill. It’s a lovely thing, being able to slide into my seat on the bes without feeling like I’m going to dissolve into a puddle, and Yonah gets a kick out of being chauffeured from his seat of honor, otherwise known as my lap.

Today was business as usual. I headed back to school after our wild weekend while Shuie stayed home sick with a cold, poor boy. A whole bunch of my friends from Midreshet Rachel were also out sick with a stomach bug so it felt a little like a ghost town at school today. After my morning classes I slipped out early to pick up Yonah. We came home to a sparkling clean house, thanks to my wonderful hubby, who took two hours to clean all the dishes and straighten up the kitchen and living room. Bliss…The afternoon flew by; Yonah and I had a long play/tickle session on the floor and a visit from Shmuel Yaakov and Rachel, during which Yonah sampled about a half dozen of Shmuel Yaakov’s tea biscuits. By the time I turned around it was almost bedtime.

Shuie, Yonah and I are still recuperating from our weekend, so it’s early to bed for everyone tonight. I have a full day tomorrow, morning classes at MRC and then an afternoon class at Simchat Shlomo. I’m a little anxious about leaving Yonah for that extra stretch, but I have confidence in him. If it turns out to be too much for him, I’ll just have to readjust things a bit. Such is life.

In other news, I spoke to my father today and he said he may be coming to visit sometime in December. I’m really excited. He’s insanely busy with work so we don’t get much time to chat on the phone; it will be nice to have some extended time to visit with him. I hope everything works out with his schedule. My brother Josh and his girlfriend Katherine may also be planning a visit in the Spring, so I’ll be able to get my family fix at least once per season.

Okay, I’m forcing myself off the computer. In the words of the lovestruck Juliet, “Good-night, good-night. A thousand times good-night…”

Last night we hosted what was probably the most happening Shabbat dinner party in all of Ramat Eshkol. We were ten around the table, and as international a crew as you could find outside of Brad and Angelina’s house. We had our American contingency, of course, which included a native Memphian and an Iowan, and we also had an Aussie, two Brits and an Israeli. What amazed me was that despite the myriad of backgrounds (as well as levels of Jewish observance), everyone had a total blast. There was much laughter and banter batted across the table and amazing connections made over the most random of subjects, from favorite farm animals to the importance of radio broadcasting for Anglos in Israel. I realized when Chava asked me that I had never hosted such a large group before, so I was very excited that it turned out to be such a success. As I’ve said before, I love having a table where anyone who wants to come is welcome and is made to feel that way. I’m learning now that there is an art to finding the right mix of people. You nail that, and all you have to do is sit back and watch the sparks fly.

Unfortunately, our happy evening was followed by an almost sleepless night. Poor Yonah has a very bad rash on his tush that was burning him the whole night, and his short spurts of sleep were interrupted with long bouts of painful crying. Shuie and I alternated staying with him in between diaper changes and liberal applications of Desitin. We all woke up late this morning, but I am happy to report that Yonah was in much happier spirits today. His father and I, however, felt like we’d been trampled by a herd of angry bison, so most of our day was spent catching up on much-needed sleep. I cannot tell you how happy I was that we had not invited anyone for lunch today so we could eat at our leisure, in our pajamas.

I have tried not to be that annoying pregnant lady who whines about nausea or exhaustion or any of that stuff, but I am giving myself permission to do so, just once, right now. I am now 14 weeks along, and I had thought that the insidious morning sickness–that name is misleading, by the way; it’ll get you any old time it feels like–was starting to pass. It has not been an easy ride thus far, but I tried not to make a big deal about it because it means my body is doing what it’s supposed to. Anyway, this week I was finally climbing my way back to the land of normalcy where the sight of vegetables wasn’t making me retch. Until last night, that is. After our guests had all gone, my stomach decided to start salsa dancing and has not stopped since. Even now, I am writing this blog entry partly to postpone eating my dinner. Can I just say it sucks feeling like this all the time? I’m ready for that high-energy, ethereal mama-to-be phase where everyone says you’re glowing and wants to touch your belly. I am tired of walking around looking like a voodoo priestess and feeling like my intestines are going to make a break for it at any second. But that’s the beauty of having babies, I guess. You go through nine months of nausea, exhaustion, swelling, weight gain, mood swings and anxiety, followed up by a full-scale pain marathon that you could never fully explain to anyone who hasn’t gone through it. But the minute you see your kid, all that not-so-great stuff you went through fades away like smoke. After a while, the idea of going through the whole thing again seems like a great idea. Which it is.

Okay, time to eat something. Wish me luck.

I didn’t get to write yesterday because my day turned out to be as stuffed as a moose head in a hunting lodge. All good things, thankfully, but by the time I got home at MIDNIGHT, I was way too bombed to sit down and write about it.

My second day back at Midreshet Rachel offered me a lovely surprise: I’ve been promoted! No, I’m not teaching the classes (Yet), but they did move me up a level in my Chumash (Bible) class because my textual skills have improved. My new class is smaller but all of the people in it are my closest friends at school, and they quickly called me over to be part of their chevruta (learning team). That move was a huge boost to my confidence and made me even MORE excited about coming back. The class after that was called “The Jewish Woman”, taught by a firecracker of a woman named Dina Coopersmith, who talked about the power a woman has to influence the people around her, particularly her family. Unlike men, women have the foresight and intuition to understand the long-term implications of things, while men get caught up in the present, minute details. The class, essentially, is going to be about how the future of the Jewish people basically relies on us. I can definitely deal with that :). Actually, the class reminded me of a story I heard once about Bill and Hilary Clinton. The dynamic duo were driving somewhere and pulled over at a gas station. It turned out the owner of the station was a former flame of Hilary’s. As they pulled away, Bill said, “Can you imagine if you’d married that guy? You’d be the wife of a gas-station owner!”. “No,” Hilary retorted. “HE would have been president!”.

As it turns out, my teacher Dina lives about two minutes away from me so I hitched a ride home with her, thereby saving me a 45-minute commute, just enough time to run over to the grocery store to get food for Shabbat before I had to meet Yonah at home. I zipped through the store (a refreshing throwback to my single-gal days) and ran into Chaim at the checkout (he was picking up lunch while he waited for Shuie to come home; they go to the gym together in the afternoons). Chaim chauffeured me home, where I met a happy Yonah and Shuie. Twenty minutes later, Yonah and I were out the door again to meet Rachel and Shmuel Yaakov for a walk to the playground, where we met another Mommy named Nomi and her son, Yaakov Moshe (Are we seeing a pattern here?). Yonah played beautifully, of course, and even tried his first peanut-butter and jelly sandwich (Yaakov Moshe was kind enough to trade for some of Yonah’s rice cakes). I hadn’t given Yonah nuts or strawberries before, but I was only a quick run from the pediatricians in the event of an allergy breakout. Luckily, we completed out afternoon outing free of emergency and with new friends made.

I had an interesting conversation with Rachel and Nomi at the park, all about what our dreams our for the future. More specifically, we painted a picture of what we wanted our lives to look like ten years from now. I was surprised to hear about what kind of houses they wanted and what they wanted them to look like. I totally get the idea of wanting a house; I even have some ideas of how I would want my dream house to look (rustic yet modern, like a woodsy hunting lodge but with a funky, artsy feel). But, for me, when you ask me what I want my life to look like in ten years, I think about what I’ll be doing: teaching, ideally, writing, raising my kids of course, doing outreach and opening my home to people. That isn’t to say that my friends didn’t talk about what they wanted to be doing, I guess I just didn’t expect the house to come first.

Yonah and I got home WAY past naptime, but he wasn’t interested in sleeping for very long. Within half an hour of coming home, Uncle Seth Perkins arrived to spend the rest of the afternoon and have dinner with us. We always love seeing Seth (Yonah included); for me, it gives me a sense of connection with my sister, who is also Seth’s best friend. Having him around makes me feel like I have family nearby. When Shuie got home from the gym, he, Seth, Yonah and I all sat down to dinner, which, despite our best intentions, we rarely do all together during the week. It was so, so nice.

Later in the evening I headed over to Katamon for a meeting. I was tired but pushed myself to go, knowing that I was going to be too busy cooking today to get out again. Now that I’ve been making regular appearances at the meetings, I’ve been connecting with some of the other regulars, who invited me out for coffee after the meeting. Despite the fact that it was already 10 p.m., I agreed (In Mommy time, this is like way breaking curfew). We headed over to a busy coffee shop on Emek Refa’im, where we all chatted and laughed for a little over an hour. By the time I got home, it was already midnight (beat the pumpkin by a hair!) and Shuie, bless his heart, was washing the dishes for me. I fell into bed exhausted, but happy.

I guess a life is actually building up around me, slowly but surely: new friends, new places, new experiences. Who said life ends when you become a parent?

This morning I am cooking, cooking, cooking. We’re having seven, possibly eight guests this evening, and being a red-blooded Jewish mother I am scared there isn’t going to be enough food. There always ends up being enough, but at least if I overcook we’ll have enough leftovers to tide us over for a while. Lots to do, so off I go…