Ahhh! Mother's Day

It was a very busy weekend. Saturday we had a Bat Mitzvah to attend, and breaking our usual pattern, we also went to the evening party. It was a family friend and we couldn't say no.


Yesterday I woke up tired and somewhat grumpy.
My mood improved when MLC took me to get my toes done--Ahhh!

And while we were away in town, Bruce put together my Mother's Day present. My mood improved considerably, when I saw him putting THIS out on the patio!






Of course, I had to try it out.

It was a beautiful evening to just sit on the patio and rock while watching the clouds come over the mountains.

I think I even closed my eyes for a few minutes.

The chair is very comfortable. (Today Bruce is putting primer on it and on the one that he bought himself for me to give him for father's day. Clever man. Tomorrow he will paint them both hunter green).

And I could sit and enjoy the evening because...


Bruce, N. and MLC did the cooking. (N. is behind the camera). Hmmm. At least, I think MLC was helping...

On Saturday evening--late--Bruce and N. left the Bat Mitzvah Party and drove past our home into Edgewood. They said the'd be late because they were taking A. home. Actually, A.'s mom met them at Smith's Grocery and Bruce and N. bought some steaks. They were planning the first outdoor BBQ of the year for Mother's Day.

Looking at the picture above, I do not think I actually NEED steak and potatoes--but, as they say, never, absolutely never, look a gift horse in the mouth!





MLC did do something, though, because this beautiful table was set up on the patio.

I guess I really rate--she put on a tablecloth, the good silverware and crystal.

When MLC's boyfriend arrived, we all sat down to a lovely Mother's Day dinner al fresco.

It was a beautiful evening for it, too! Warm, with clouds moving across the Sandias, and no wind! So we ate steak and potatoes and a choice of Pinot Gregio or Merlot. Apple pie for dessert. I am so glad that it is against my religion to diet...

If I started out the day grumpy, I ended it feeling pretty mellow.

Making It Theirs

Yesterday, I had a meeting with our rabbi about N.'s religious education.

Since February, we have been unschooling Jewish education for N. The 7th grade class at the synagogue was long on sitting, notes, and tests, and short on hands-on activities and discussions. I discussed all of the reasons for our decision here. I had sent that blog directly to the rabbi, who, as far as I can tell, did not read it. On the last Sunday in April, I attended a parents meeting for the Religious Education Committee to hear what their plans are for the next year. The religious education program has been in some state of disarray for a long time. Two years ago, the educator that had been in place for a number of years resigned because her husband had gotten a new job in Colorado. She was a good educator, but over the years so much had been put on her plate that the core programs, the religious school, Hebrew school and the teen Machon program, were left to run themselves. Last year, we had a temporary educator on a one-year contract who made a number of recommendations to strengthen the core programs. She was a sharp lady and had a lot to say. This year, the congregation hired a new educator who, for various reasons that I do not know, was terminated within six months. As I understand it, the termination decision was based on performance rather than any egregious act. So, last week I attended that meeting for parents. And found out that after two-and-a-half-years of frustration, a promised special needs procedure was still not going to be put in place. GRRRR!

I know all of the reasons. We had set-backs due to all of the administrative changes. We are hiring a consultant to hold focus groups and make us look at ourselves--the good and bad--so that we can make constructive changes. They all sound reasonable--when it is not your kid who is losing out. So I made an appointment to talk to the rabbi about N.'s Jewish education. It was my plan to discuss an alternative program for N., mediated by me, composed of all of the components we have in place alreadly along with, hopefully, possibly,...some kind of service work at the synagogue. Please?

So I called the rabbi's secretary and made an appointment. And I began to think about what made my religious education a good one. (I can sum that up in three words: Camp and Sharon Kahn). And what we did that filled the sanctuary on holidays like Purim, when I was a young Hebrew teacher in the 1980's. I talked to MLC about the things that made it all fun and exciting when she was in the religious school. I talked to our "daughter of the heart," L, about what she remembered. And all of these ideas were jumbled in my head as I drove to my appointment with the rabbi yesterday.

Now, I actually, actively dread these kinds of appointments. I always resolve that I am going to appear professional and competent. I AM a teacher. I HAVE a master's in special education. But when it's about my baby, my own little boy, I always end up crying. It did not help that the rabbi was accusatory. The staccato tone of "So you did this...you agreed to this...and then you just pulled him out," felt a bit like gun fire. At this point I realized that he had not read my e-mail.

No, that's not quite it, rabbi. I met with D. (the inflexible teacher) and S. (the educator) in September. D. dictated the terms and did not bother to read the information I gave him about Asperger Syndrome and Central Auditory Processing Disorder. I did attend class with N. for 6 weeks. I saw that my presence was isolating N. from his peers (I was not just in the room, I was expected to sit with N. and make sure he took notes, like a helicopter parent, rather than be a general presence in the class) and I saw that N. was too busy trying to write and spell correctly to actually understand the content of the lecture. So I told N. to focus on listening to what was being presented (pretty difficult anyway for a kid with CAPD) and try to tell me one thing he had learned. I stopped going to class with him so that he would interact with his peers. I waited outside in case there were problems. In late November or early December, D. accosted me and yelled at me that N. was not learning because I was not coming to class and N. was not taking notes. I countered that N. was not learning because the pedagogy was completely unsuited to any 7th grader, let alone one with learning disabilities. I asked D. if he would please use graphic organizers because N. learns best visually. The response was "No." I asked if he could e-mail the content of the lecture power point to me on Tuesday, so that I could make the graphic organizers. No, again. I met with the educator, who promised that she would talk to D. and agreed that it was not appropriate for me to be in the classroom. Then we got caught up with the Bar Mitzvah--where N. surprised them all!-- and then the educator resigned. Having no recourse, and facing increasingly clear evidence that D. did not want my son in his class, and that N. was increasingly frustrated with the situation, I made other plans. The plans discussed here.

Sigh! I am getting all ferklempt just recounting this here! :( It's really embarrassing.
Like I said, when it's my kid...

So I got pretty passionate about what I think is needed. I was waving my arms a lot. Getting loud. Tears in the eyes. The whole ferklempt thing. And then it just came out of my mouth.
"If we want the kids to want to come, we have to make it theirs! They have to own it. They should be conducting services during religious school. They should be playing the guitar and leading the singing! They should be doing Judaism!"

Doing Judaism. Being Torah.

What a concept. Duh!

As I think about it, you know what the problem is with my generation? We do everything for our kids. No wonder the kids are disengaged. No wonder they roll their eyes when we talk at them about the wonders of Judaism, or of math, or of science, or of....anything. How would they know? They hear about it..from us. They watch a performance of it...by us. But we do not engage them in it. We do not require them to be responsible for it. They are passive. They know, as kids do, that we are egoizing to the max. It's all about us.

I feel a diatribe coming on:

Why was my Jewish education--gotten on the sly as my parents were not synagogue members--so exciting? Because we were drafted to lead services, play the music, sing the songs. We ran our own youth group meetings--sometimes badly. The advisor was just that--an advisor. A college student. We learned to be Jews by being Jews.

Why is N. so excited about Boy Scouts? Because his patrol works at being scouts. They follow a series of requirements--that is true. But those requirements require them to own scouting! Why does N. enjoy his Post-Bar Mitzvah class at Chabad? Because the rabbi who leads their discussions poses questions. He does not dictate answers. As the group struggles for answers, the concepts become theirs.

And why is homeschooling and unschooling so successful? Because we adults are stepping back. Relinquishing our places as "Sage on the Stage" to become "a guide on the side."

We are making it theirs.

End diatribe.

Sigh. Sometimes I feel like I am from another planet. Too loud. Too big. Take up too much space. I don't think the rabbi "got it."

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle...

Mother's Day in the United States will be celebrated this Sunday, May 13.

My mother used to say: "The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world."

In my younger days, I thought that the statement was a bit overblown to say the least. Influenced by the second wave of the feminist movement, I wondered if the saying was simply an excuse to not venture out into the world to do great things. To stay on the pedestal and bow to patriarchy.

When I was growing up, I had two best girlfriends. The three of us had much in common, not the least of which was that we were all certified members of "geekdom." In those days, being geeks was not cool, but it did have its compensations. One of these was permission to read science fiction and watch Star Trek and dream of doing great things in the future. Together, we three girls dreamed of becoming scientists, engineers, physicians, philosophers. In short, we were to become builders of worlds. Our motto was: "To summon the future!"

As we left school and started our lives, we did realize some of those dreams. We did become scientists and engineers, philosophers and anthropologists. But we also became speakers of many languages, teachers, care-givers, and mothers. And, although it took a while, we began to realize that it was in our roles as mothers that we took on the title of "builders of worlds."

Our most enduring role models are the mothers of Israel: Sarah, Rebekah, Leah, and Rachel. Our mother Sarah, who laughed at the Eternal, and not only lived to tell the tale, but also named her son for that laughter. Rebekah, who wondered about the purpose of her existence and yet determined the leadership of Israel for all time. Leah, who, as the matriarch of the tribe, managed the family and brought her husband prosperity. And Rachel, who nurtured the gifts and dreams of her son Joseph, who saved an entire land from famine.

And more: Yocheved, mother of Moses, whose look was toward life in a dark time. Miriam, the prophet, whose well of sweet water gave life in the wilderness. Hannah, Deborah the Judge, Hulda the prophet, Esther the Queen. And all of the women and mothers whose names we do not know; a web of women that kept the Jewish people alive. The influence of the mothers of Israel lives down the centuries. Their legacy is affirmed every Shabbat when Jewish women light candles and bless and pray for their children.

When we were young, my intrepid girl friends and I, we dreamed of glory. We imagined a legacy of fame and fortune. Well, we are all fortunate. But although we have achieved much, none of us have won Nobel prizes or ruled countries. We are grateful that some women have done so. But I think that each of the three of us has, at one time or another, realized that our power to summon the future comes from our efforts to bring up our children to be menschen. To be on the path of the true human being. If we teach our children to be good, true, compassionate, just and loving, and if they, in their turn treat others this way, then imagine how far we can "pay it forward." Our names may not be known, but our influence on the future can be very great. It can endure down the generations.

How great is our power. There is a Jewish saying: "To save one life is to save a whole world." Here is our corollary: "To nurture one life is to nurture whole worlds." Our influence can determine if those worlds are healthy and loving, or not. If they are places of joy and compassion, or not. If the truth is spoken in those worlds and if justice is done.

The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.

Like Esther, we can change the world. So this Mother's Day, I will be standing in order to begin to make a difference. Sometimes small acts, when done together, can lead to great changes. When Julia Ward Howe, author of the Battle Hymn of the Republic, wrote the Mother's Day Proclaimation in 1870, she meant it to be a call to action. She wrote:

"Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be that of water or of tears!Say firmly: 'We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.' "

I want to answer her call all these years later, and stand for a better world for our children. So I will joining the Standing Women all across the world at 1 PM (local time) on Mother's Day to renew my commitment to Tikkun Olam, the repair of the world. I invite you to join me on that day. Go to the link above and let them know where you will stand. All across the world, we will make a wave of women, hour after hour, standing to commit themselves to the following pledge:

Remember: The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.

What kind of world do we want that to be?

Happy Mother's Day!

Lag B'Omer: Let's Go Fly a Kite!

Lag B'Omer

by N.

Today is the minor Jewish holiday of Lag B' Omer. The word "Lag" is not really a word, but an acronymn for the letters "lamed" and "gimmel," the number 33 in Hebrew. To understand Lag B'Omer, first you need to know what the Omer is and what counting the Omer is.

The Torah says:

You shall count for yourselves seven weeks, from when the sickle is first put to the standing crop shall you begin counting seven weeks. Then you will observe the Festival of Shavu'ot for the L-RD, your G-d -Deuteronomy 16:9-10.



Beginning at Pesach time, a measure of barley was brought to the Temple for sacrifice--the sheaf or measure is called an Omer. Every day for 50 days, that measure of barley was waved in the temple. Fifty days is the time between the holiday of Pesach and the holiday of Shavuot. This was the time of the ancient barley harvest in the land of Israel. Now we do not have the Temple in Jerusalem, and most of us do not live in Eretz Israel, and most of us are not farmers, so instead of harvesting the barley measure and bringing it to the temple, we count each day from the second night of Pesach until the day before Shavuot. We call this counting the Omer.

In the days of Rabbi Akiba, there was a plague in the land of Israel, but the plague stopped on the 33 day of counting the Omer. So that day is a happy day in the middle of the barley harvest. We celebrate by going out of doors that day, having picnics, and enjoying a day in the middle of spring. The End.



Back to you, Mom!



Elisheva:



The period of the counting of the Omer is a period of semi-mourning in the Jewish calendar. We do not have weddings, parties or dances, or cut our hair during this time. Some say it is because of a plague that occured in Rabbi Akiba's time. Others say that it is because harvest time is a time of uncertainty and work until the crop is safely in. But on the 33 day of the counting of the Omer, the restrictions are lifed and a minor holiday is celebrated by Jews the world over. This is Lag B'Omer. It occurs about a month after the festival of Passover, and a little over 2 weeks before the festival of Shavuot--the Feast of Weeks. It is customary to enjoy the springtime on this holiday by going outside to have picnics and bonfires. Also, it is the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Simeon Bar Yochai, a mystic of old, so in Israel many Hasidic Jews make a pilgrimage to his grave in the Galilee. Also, little boys get their first hair-cut on this day at the age of three.

The agricultural underpinning of Lag B'Omer, as a celebration of the ongoing barley harvest, is akin to May Day in the Old European calendar. It is a time to rejoice in the sweetness of new life and fecundity in the springtime of the year.

Today we had an outdoors day--on a blustery day in early May--as celebration of Lag B'Omer.

My daughter, MLC, and our daughter-of-the-heart, L. ran the 5K race in the Run for the Zoo in Albuquerque. Here, in the black hat and pink sweatshirt, is MLC crossing the finish line.

She said she has had better time in training, but was happy with her time considering the wind and the crowd.

Here is L. coming up to the finish line a few minutes later.

She was also happy with her time.

MLC's boyfriend took these pictures from the media stand for one of the radio stations. The guy knows everybody!

This afternoon, Bruce, N. and I went to the Edgewood Wind Festival at Wildlife West--a wonderful nature park in Edgewood.

It was a wonderful day to fly kites, brisk with a stiff northeast wind.

N. bought "Jaws" at the kite stand. In honor of Lag B'Omer, a day in which the Keshet (rainbow) is also celebrated, he also got a "rainbow" tail to put on the kite.

Here is "Jaws" turning into the wind.

I honestly don't know who had a better time flying the kite, N. or Bruce!

Bruce says that when he was little, he was the Charlie Brown of Oakland. His only attempt at getting a kite into the air ended up feeding a "kite eating palm tree."

But together, my guys got the kite into the air.
There was a lot encouraging talk and laughter while they did it.

N: "Feel the Force, Jaws, feel the force!"

Bruce: "Be the wind, Jaws! Be the wind!"

All of us: "Da-dum, Da-dum, da-dum..."
(the shark riff from the movie Jaws).

Today the weather was a little strange. Did you notice that MLC was wearing a sweatshirt while running in Albuquerque in May? Do you notice that the guys have winter coats on while flying kites? We actually had snow flurries this morning at our house! But the strange weather did bring good kite-flying wind. So we celebrated a little in the middle of counting the Omer.

It was wonderful to get out and feel the wind and enjoy the new grass smell. And to know that I am done with the semester. Lag B'Omer is one of those wonderful little holidays that take very little planning and have no elaborate preparation. It's just a day of fun in the middle of spring.

Tidying Up Using Sharp Instruments of Destruction

Despite predictions of a dry spring this year, we have been seeing lots of clouds and rain.

Between Monday and yesterday, we got nearly an inch of rain! This is very different than this time last year and we are grateful!

Here are some clouds spilling over the Sandia Mountains yesterday morning. Beautiful! And wet...







...which means that between the weather and final exams, papers, and presentations, I have not gotten out to the garden.

But today was a perfect day, finally. All finals, papers and presentations are complete. Last night, the moon was "a ghostly galleon" among the diminishing clouds. And this morning dawned fair and dewy. Dew. Or "tal" in Hebrew.
I have not seen dew in New Mexico in years! There was none up here last spring, and before that we lived in the high desert.




"Today," I told N. at breakfast, "I am working to tidy up the garden areas."

"And plant?" he asked eagerly.

"Don't be hasty. There is a lot of work to do before we can plant. And anyway, the danger of frost has not passed until around Mother's Day. I'll be tidying up," I explained.

"Does that involve sharp instruments of destruction?"

"Yep," I replied.

"I'm there!" N. exclaimed.

Here he is, using the long-handled clippers to cut back a purple sage bush. They look really nice against adobe, but oh, Lord, they are weeds! They spread all over the place and have to be cut severely back and thinned in the spring. I probably should've done this in March--but with cleaning for Pesach, gardening has to wait.


I am always amazed at the industry shown by young men if they are given "sharp instruments of destruction!"

Here is the purple sage bush after N. went at it.
While I did the dooryard garden area, he not only got the bush trimmed, but also raked the rocks clear of most of the twigs. And he also started on the Aspen suckers.

I don't why the former owners planted Aspen--they are largest living plant on earth. When you see a stand of Aspen, you are really seeing one organism. The damn things clone like mad, forming stands a hundred yards wide sometimes. Bruce is eventually going to take the Aspen out, but until he does, we do sucker control.

But back to the point. In two hours, we got four hours worth of work done--all because N. wanted to work with "Sharp instruments of destruction."

Can a woman really every understand the male of the species?

Carnival of Homeschooling: Yes-No-Yes!

The Carnival of Homeschooling--May Day Edition is up at Dewey's Treehouse. Mama Squirrel actually got it up last night, There are some really good articles--so stop and smell the roses! Enjoy!

The Lovely Month of May!

Today is May Day!

A day to take a break from heavy thinking and rejoice in the middle of spring.

Here is where the sun rose today at our house--it is rising north of east, about half-way to its farthest point north of rising. The days are still getting longer!

May Day is a cross-quarter day--coming roughly half-way between the Vernal Equinox and the Summer Solstice. In the Old Calendar, this is Beltane--the beginning of summer, when the goddess is manifest in the form of the maiden, the promise of life. In Christian Europe, this month is dedicated to the Virgin, again, as the promise of life.

The closest Jewish holiday is Lag b'Omer, the 33rd day of the the counting of the omer--a measure of barley--which is coming up this Sunday. It is also a moment of rejoicing in the middle of the ancient barley harvest. Stay tuned for more!

Here is a picture of the sunrise on the Vernal Equinox. By comparing this with the picture above, you can see that the sun is now rising well to the left of where it rose on the first day of astronomical spring for the northern hemisphere.

The passing of the seasons of our lives happens so quickly and our lives are so fleeting that seems important to stop this day and enjoy this moment!


When I was a child growing up in Illinois, all of these small holidays were marked in school.

Throughout the elementary years, we would make May baskets on May Day--weaving them out of many bright colors of construction paper strips, and staple on handles. On the way home from school, we would pick flowers that bloomed so abundantly--violets, lilac, sweet clover, and dandelions--and put them in the May baskets. We would then hang these baskets on neighbors door-handles, ring the bell and run away. When they opened their doors, our neighbors always acted as if they didn't know who could possibly have given them this beautiful gift, exclaiming loudly over the beauty of the spring baskets, so they could be heard over our giggles, as we hid around the corner of the porch.

I think something precious has been lost--some connection to the turning of the seasons and to community--now that May Day is no longer celebrated by children in schools. At least, it does not happen here anymore.

So today, to celebrate May Day, we took pictures of the flowers blooming in our meadow. Here, in the high desert mountains of New Mexico, the real wildflower season comes in August. But when we get rain in the spring, we do get some flowers peeping shyly through the grasses in mid-spring.

So here are some dandelions. Above are some flowers from the pea-family that are purple. Here I do not see violets or white clover. In a few weeks the evening primroses will be out. We will see lots of sunflowers and penstamon, and yellow clover later in the summer. If we go to the top of the Sandias we will even see the beautiful columbine, up against the limestone rock face, in the shade, where it likes to hide.

Happy May Day!