Having the Israel Talk

The more I read about Israel, the more upset I become. Not just about what is happening there, but the narrative I see in the media again and again – Israel is the bully, Israel is the terrorist, Israel is committing genocide, Israel has no right to exist.

These last few weeks I have sensed anti-Israel sentiment more acutely than I ever have, with the bullied becoming the bully, the terrorized becoming the terrorists. I worry of a swelling anti-Semitism demonstrated boldly in hashtags and video clips. 

Dick Jokes from the Mouths of Babes

It's very rare that America's Got Talent gets me thinking philosophically about parenting.

But that happened this week.

Our family settled in to watch a recording of this week's episode on Wednesday night. I was the only one who knew about the controversial audition of Josh Orlian, the 12-year-old Jewish boy who told off-color jokes in his stand-up routine, because I'd seen the clip and the subsequent outcry of shonda on Twitter. 

Bucket Woman's Sons Aren't Going To Overnight Camp

I recently read a friend's post on Facebook describing how this time of year brings her the greatest memories of her childhood, spent in overnight camp. Camp friends are tagged and hashtagged sentences hold hands, all cheering for the best summers ever.

I hear twin sentiments from some of my girlfriends who are currently occupied with labeling clothing, buying the right shower caddies and acquiring an overabundance of Nike socks. In less than a week, many will be seeing their kids off to overnight camp – some for their second or third summer. They hope for lessons in independence, overcoming challenges unparented and making those unbreakable lifelong friendships. 

Kicking Out Karate?

"Doing It Before You're Told!"

That was the character homework in June at Philly Karate, where my son enrolled three years ago. It was the first assignment Maxon received, before he earned his first belt. His job was to compete 10 things without being asked, and for that he'd get a stripe of white duct tape wound around his belt. Before we left the studio, Maxon got his shoes and socks on without being asked and wrote it down on the homework. He completed nine other tasks before the week was out.

I was immediately in love with Philly Karate and its instructors.

My Son's Jewish Stomach

I have discovered three words that leave me feeling both helpless and suspicious. 

"My stomach hurts."

Again? Does he have a fever? Any other symptoms? Does he just want to get out of going to school? Did he eat something bad? Is it anxiety? Can Honey Bunches of Oats cause food poisoning? When did I buy the milk? Do I need to get the vomit bowl? If I tell him to walk it off and then he projectile vomits, how severely will I punish myself?

 

Jewish Tiger Mother

A few years ago, I read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, curious about the controversy author Amy Chua was stirring. I was intrigued by the chapter where Chua pushes her child to practice "Little White Donkey" on the piano to perfection, despite how fiercely her daughter fought to quit, convinced that she couldn't play it.

I felt like Chua was really being a bully, threatening her with the loss of beloved toys, food, bathroom breaks and holiday presents. I thought she'd smother her daughter's love of music.

The Benefits of Big Boys

At a recent little league game, I watched one of the parents do laps around the field with a toddler in a stroller, attempting to score a nap. I sat back in my chair, sipped my coffee and thought, "Thank God I don’t have to do that anymore."

I remember walking in circles, peeking over the brim of the stroller, wondering, "Are those eyes fully closed or droopy? If I stop moving now, will he wake up? I can't tell, open or closed? Oh, God, he saw me."

Crossing the Kvelling Line

Spring is here and that means little league baseball. Seven-year-old Ezra is in the AAA division of the Taney Youth Baseball league. If you are friends with me on social media, you know that I post a lot of Ezra's game highlights.

If I weren't me, and I were friends with me, would I see another Taney Leopards video and think, "Ugh, again with the baseball. We get it. Your son is Mike Schmidt."

Getting Comfortable with Discomfort

I recently took our two sons to a shiva of an old friend of the family. It was the first time they'd gone to a shiva of someone who was a complete stranger to them, mourned by an apartment full of complete strangers. I didn't expect them to feel as safe as they did when surrounded by family after their great grandparents died. But after preparing them for what they would see and how they should act before we took the elevator up to the apartment, I didn't fully expect the exercise in introversion that followed. 

Makeshift Vacation Seder

Since we had planned a spring break trip to the Virginia mountains with another family over Passover, my girlfriend and I decided to put together a "vacation seder." We split some responsibilities – I handled charoset and matzah and she handled Haggadot and wine, for instance. On the way to the mountain house, we stopped to get groceries for the week, including items for our seder menu.

Facing Fears, Big and Small

My youngest, 7-year-old Ezra, is afraid of volcanoes. I don't know what image nested in his brain and hatched as fear, but for as long as I can remember, every time we visited a new place, he asked the following question:

"Are there volcanoes there?"

I've had to explain that there are no volcanoes in Philadelphia, the Poconos, the Jersey shore, Lego Land, Florida, Vermont, North Carolina or London.

Sons of a Spaz

My elementary school days were not idyllic. I was called many things, but "spaz" was amongst the most popular. Kids called me this because I was, well, a spaz. I didn't stand up for myself. I cried in the bathroom often. I took whatever friendship handouts I could get.

These experiences deeply inform my parenting. Over the years I have coached the boys to speak up for themselves, like what they like, be who they are and don't apologize for it. When my advice was helpful and one of the kids found success on the playgound, it almost felt like a success for my timid younger self.

In Defense of Spirited Boys

I recently had several conversations with other mothers who have boys, conversations that swirled around boy behavior and the swift suggestions of attention deficit hyperactivity disorderand medication. We talked about how our boys behave, and wondered what medication would help and what it would take away. 

My boys are fidgety, forgetful, goofy; distracted, bossy, competitive; daydreaming, messy, impulsive. Sometimes these qualities don't jive with the average American elementary school.