Zeke, this was taken just after you got your first set of shots.  You were so cute during our visit.  You talked to Laurie (our pediatrician and close friend) so much that she couldn’t hear your heart beat!  Of course, we decided that this means you are advanced in your development:).  You are acting like a 4 month-old instead of the 2 that you are. 

You barely cried when that mean old nurse gave you your shots.  Although, I will not forget the look of total betrayal you gave me when it happened.  Now you would think that since you are my fourth baby, I would have learned not to be the person you are looking at when you feel pain!  But no!  I am the idiot that stood right there when that shot went in.  I don’t think you believed me when I kept professing that I was not the one that did that to you either.  Thank G-d you don’t have any memory yet:) 

At 2 months you are 13lbs 13oz and 24 and 1/4 inches long.  95% in weight and 90% on height.  As you can see from your picture, you are such a happy baby.  You are doing great!

Thank goodness my girls don’t know enough to keep from telling on themselves!  Either that or they think I am a real dummy.  Last night I was bathing Zeke, Micah, and Hannah.  This is a little tricky and requires concentration to make sure no one drowns, much less gets clean enough for the bath to count.  But in the hub bub of bubbles and shampoo a couple of things came to my attention.

Micah had her eyes checked this summer by our eye doctor, and her eye sight is 20/20.  Now she has always wanted glasses but unfortunately for her she has perfect vision.  And no, I am just not to the point of buying her fake glasses for hundreds of dollars.  So she began telling me, last night, how she failed the vision screening at school.  Hmm? 

Micah:  “Mom I did NOT lie”

Me:  “of course you didn’t lie”

Micah:  “Mom do you believe me?  I did NOT lie”

Me:  “of course you didn’t lie.  You would never do something like that”

This continued until I lost count at about 23.  Hmmm?  I wonder what the vision screening will say?

Then Hannah who gives me grey hair because she will put anything in her mouth if it smells good, and had not actually gotten in the water yet said, “mommy you do not have to take me to the hospital”

RED ALERT!!!  I frantically look around for some poison I overlooked and find the empty mouthwash bottle in the trash.  Now I am hoping it was empty because someone put it in the trash.  But it was definitely empty when I got to it. 

Me:  “Hannah did you drink this mouthwash?”

Hannah:  “sure, but you don’t have to take me to the hospital” (you can guess the conversations we have had about poison and putting things in your mouth…………………..  really left an impact)

Me:  “was it alot of mouthwash?”

Hannah:  “sure, but you don’t have to take me to the hospital”

Where is my husband in the middle of this chaos you ask?  Leisurely watching a movie with my 12 yr old.  What do I do?  Well, I watch my two year old for any weirdness that might lead me to pump her stomach, and I finish the bath and put them to bed.  What else?

Okay. now this post is not going to make me popular with anyone.  Especially my kids.  I am mainly writing this for myself.  I want to document just how miserable Halloween makes my kids, so next year, when I even begin to consider “trick or treating” I can come back and read this!

I feel that living your life with moderation as a value is good.  Most things are okay in moderation.  Even candy (coming from the worlds biggest health nut,- it pains me to say this,- but it is true,- even for candy). 

The idea of Halloween is great.  The reality is another monster all together.  Even I get caught up in the idea of Halloween (every gosh darn year).  Dressing up as your favorite character.  Family time strolling leisurely through the neighborhood.  Your children are having fun.   You are catching up with your neighbors.  Everybody is getting along.  You get to collect lots of candy, and then go home and sort it.  Your children share their candy with each other.  They pick out the best pieces, and get rid of the rest.  They eat a few pieces of candy, and then that is the end of it. 

Ok, now lets just get down to reality here.  (and I am strictly talking about my kids here.  I am sure that whoever else reads this can feel great that their kids are perfect and they cannot relate to this at all)

First, we spend a stressfully looooooong time trying on a million different outfits until we become unsatisfied with everything, and decide to go as ourselves.  Shall we call this “meltdown number one”.

Second,  that leisurely stroll through the neighborhood, becomes an all out run, to beat all the other kids (supposedly their friends) to each house to get as much candy as possible.   “Oh, that doesn’t sound so bad” you say.  Ok, let me translate.  The oldest child can run the fastest!  So he (or she) is out of sight and around the corner within seconds.  The subsequent siblings cannot keep up, which means they are not FIRST to get candy.  Let’s call this “meltdown number 2”   But, by golly, they are going to give it their all, regardless of the fact that they are actually in a STREET with CARS coming home from work at this hour.  So you, the parent, are trying to watch for your kids within a crowd of Hannah Montana’s, princesses, and superheroes who are running hell mell all over the place, right in front of CARS like a bunch of midgets with their pants on fire.  And yes, I am doing all this with a newborn swinging from my boob because he is freaked out by all the candy chaos.  This then leads to “meltdown number 3”  (Although we as parents are so good at controlling our emotions that this meltdown is invisible to the naked eye)……………..  Right! 

So by some miracle, myself and all my children actually arrive home safe and unskwooshed by all the dads driving home from work.  Now the fun begins…..

My children sit down and dump their candy on the floor.  They then proceed to stuff as much as possible in their mouths as fast as they can.  Now they have not had dinner yet.  So by the time I can put a stop to this craziness, they are on about piece number 25.  This leads us to “meltdown number 4”  I like to think of this meltdown as the “grand finale” like at the fireworks show.  See we don’t take turns with this meltdown.  Everyone ends up screaming and crying at once.  I am mad at myself for being stupid enough to set my kids up for this (again).  Which, of course, I take out on them.  They are mad at me because, I am the evil mother that doesn’t want them to overdose on sugar.  Needless to say, the sugar high they are on comes down with a resounding crash, right as hysteria is setting in.  My husband walks in the door from work, mad because he just about ran over little “Harry Potter” from down the street.   And we end up skipping dinner, and just trying to ride out the mayhem until they fall asleep (or pass out).  At which point, I promptly go and throw all the candy away!!!!!  (This leads to “meltdown number 5” but I don’t have to face that until I am trying to get them ready for school in the morning.  At which point, I rummage through the trash, and they each pick out candy to put in their lunch box and then I throw it away.  Hell, let the teachers deal with my kids on drugs.)

So there you have it.  The lovely experience of Halloween.  This is why I will never, never, never, never, ever do Halloween again.  (obviously until next year)

Now is that not just the cutest little face you have ever seen? 

It is 1:00 am and I just got done feeding your little brother.  Then I went around checking on everybody and came upon your little sleeping tushy sticking up in the air.  My heart goes out to you these days.  I have so much to go back and write about with Zeke’s birth and all the other crazy things that have happened over the last month.  But tonight I feel compelled to just sit down and write to you. 

This change has been hardest on you.  You are only two.  Still a baby yourself.  Yet, we look at you and treat you so much older.  Hell, some babies your age are still nursing!  You are such an amazing little person.   I see how hard you are struggling to accept this little blob of a brother that is permanently attached to me.  He is a baby that is only satisfied if he is on me, and usually that means sucking on my boob.  You have lost being the baby in my lap, or being picked up and carried around by me.  And he cries alot!  So far he ain’t that fun for you. 

And yet, you have been nothing but loving to him.  You love to hold him. You run in to say good morning to him.  The worst thing that has come out of you is hitting your big sister.  At least you are picking on somebody bigger than you.   Not the smartest thing to do as a habit, but it works for getting through this tough transition.  Micah understands you are feeling out of sorts, and luckily you are not able to inflict harm.   You are also becoming permanently attached to your passy and blankie.  You reach for that now instead of me. 

I just want you to know that Zeke’s rude entrance into your world has done nothing but make me love you even more.  I appreciate you more than ever.  You are one of the most amazing little girls I have ever known.  In the middle of all this coping you are doing, you decided to finish potty training yourself.  When my Dad was in charge one day, (I had to be away with Zeke at doctor appointments) you decided that all the candy laying around would be a good reward for going to the potty.  My Dad (not knowing any better) let you take a big handful everytime you went.  Now most kids would just take full advantage of a grandparents ignorance and simply eat all the candy they wanted.  But you decided that combining taking advantage of your grandpa with potty training yourself would be the way to go.  That is just one example of how amazing you are. 

As soon as I was pregnant (before the test even confirmed this) you decided that you were done with your crib and nursing.  You have done your best to grow up into a “big girl” as fast as possible.  You constantly entertain us with the grown up things that come out of your little body.  Although, your love of good wine is maybe taking this to an extreme. 

So I want you to know that you are still allowed to be my baby girl.  I will try my hardest to love on you constantly (even with the new growth on my boob).  My favorite part of the day is taking naps with you. And although you probably feel like I love you less now that the new boob growth has arrived; I can assure you that the opposite is true.  I feel like my love for you has exponentially increased.  I see you more clearly than ever before.  I appreciate your little personality a million times more.  You are truly an original.  The one and only ever you.

I love you forever and always

Mom

wow, so much has happened since I last posted, that I don’t know where to start.  I became Jewish in orthodox eyes, got married, had my fourth child, and turned 40!  So much to write about and now so little time to actually write.  But my goal is to get all this down in writing before I forget the details.  So bear with me.  It has been almost a month since I went offline and I feel a lifetime has happened during that time.  The best thing to share is my baby boy, Zechariah Henry Shaffer.  Born September 23 at 10:15 pm.  8 lbs 15 oz and 20 and a half inches long.  Welcome to the world little man (:

Hi.  Thanks for waking me.  You always know when I need to talk to you.  I am really having a hard time with something.  Richard and I are trying to get closer to you.  We are going through this thing called an “orthodox Jewish conversion” with the Biet Din of Chicago.  I know…..We are already Jewish, but all of your children don’t think so.  Worse than that, there are a lot of your Jewish children who might question our children’s status of being Jewish.

You know Micah, Noah and Hannah (and baby Shaffer), would be shocked to think that they are anything but your Jewish child.  So, I guess, Richard and I want to protect them from this as much as we can.   If we go through with this process, many more Jews will recognize our status as Jews.  For example, Israel will accept this certificate of conversion if we or our children ever want to live there.  It would allow our children to go to an orthodox day school if they want to.  It will make it possible for Noah to have his Bar Mitzvah at an orthodox synagogue.  (which is what is walking distance for us now on Shabbat).  It will allow the Moel to come to my house on Shabbat or Rosh Hashanah to perform the Bris if it falls on that day.  And it will open the door for my children to fall in love and marry anyone of “Jewish status”.  No matter how “orthodox” they or their family are.   If we finish this process now, the only thing Micah, Noah, Hannah and baby Shaffer have to do is go to the Mikvah.

I don’t know if they will ever want any of these things.  And I certainly don’t care so much about what other people think about us.  I know you can never please everybody.  But I know I want my babies to have whatever path they choose to get closer to you.  I want my children to feel you every single day like I do.  I love the fact that even though I can’t go to school with them, that they know you are there with them.  They talk to you (in your language no less!) every morning in Tefillah.  I love how keeping Shabbat (even having to hide Richard’s phone from him) makes us closer as a family, which connects us to you.   Our path to getting closer to you, has lead us to an orthodox lifestyle in an orthodox community, so it is possible, that my children might need this “stamp of approval” one day.

So you want to know what is the problem?  The problem is, this process doesn’t feel like you at all.  There are these older men sitting around one end of a long table.  And then there is Richard and I way down at the other end.  They are questioning us and judging us to see if we “pass” inspection to qualify as “orthodox Jews”.  Frankly, I don’t agree with everything they think.  And I know many “orthodox” families who would not agree or follow everything they think.  Yet, I feel like I have to convince them that I agree with everything they think, in order to “pass” the test.  Like, would I consider covering my hair with a wig?  I just don’t think that has anything at all to do with getting closer to you.

You know after every meeting, I leave and just have to have a good cry.  I feel so dirty and humiliated by their manner and questions.  That can’t be you.  When I converted the first time with dear Rabbi Wolkin, I felt a connection to you that was as intense as the experience of having my children.  It was so loving and inviting.  I know that was you.  This doesn’t feel like you at all.

I feel really confused.  How can something that doesn’t feel like you, get us closer to you?  We want to get closer to you.  We want to open doors for our children to get closer to you.  This process is supposed to help us do that.  But it doesn’t feel like it at all.  Maybe it will accomplish our goal later.  Maybe it is an ordeal that is necessary to come closer to you.  I honestly don’t know if I should go through with this if it makes me feel so bad inside.   They have invited us to come to the Mikvah to finish our “conversion”.  So in essence, we passed.  I know I should feel, at least relieved, if not elated.  But I am nervous about going to the Mikvah.  That has always been such a positive for me, and I don’t want it tainted by a negative experience.  And these guys are not so warm and fuzzy!

You know what,  I already know what you are going to say.  You say it all the time………It is not all about “me” and my feelings.  This is like a theme with you isn’t it?  If I have to have a little discomfort to help my children not have a lot of discomfort down the road.  If there is a way I can clear their path towards you…….  If I can find a way to save them from the pain of being doubted by their Jewish brothers……….  Hell, it is hard enough being doubted and judged by the rest of the world as a Jew!

I guess I should not think so much about me, but just think about what I am doing for my children, and grandchildren, even.  And I know, …. You are with me all the time, even the times I can’t feel it.  I know it makes you sad too.   It is hard for me when my children give each other a hard time, it has to be hard for you.

I love it when we have these conversations.  It always makes things so clear.  I will admit, I could have used the sleep, but I guess my heart needs support as much as my body.  Just maybe, do you think you could help Hannah to take a nice long nap today?????  So I can catch some zzzzzzzzzzzzs?

Thanks for all of your love and support

Your loving child

Michaux

So the question I get a hundred times a day now, when people catch site of my enormous belly, is:  Are you ready?  They say it in a way that implies I should be more than ready.  That it should be such a relief to rid myself of this burden I am carrying around.  They tend to look at me weird when I say, “No, I am not ready”.  I think they take that answer to mean I am not looking forward to meeting you, but that could not be further from the truth.

This is the truth: ………………

I daydream all the time about what you will look like.  I can’t wait to see your face for the first time.  To count all your fingers and toes.   To actually hold you in my arms.  But I love having you inside of me.  This is the place that I have the least worries about your happiness, safety and well being.  I know that you are never hungry or crying.  There is never a wet, raw tushy to deal with.  You get all the sleep you need, regardless of how crazy our household is behaving.  I don’t worry, “are you sleeping too long?  Are you still breathing?”  Did you get enough to eat?  Do you have gas?

You are constantly moving around, poking me with a foot, leg, or elbow, reassuring me that you are okay.  I get to take you everywhere with me.  I don’t have to share you with anyone.  I get to  have you utterly and completely to myself (aside from the occasional belly rubber).

The beginning of mothering you is like this. … Complete involvement.  You are tucked up inside of me, and I am wrapped around you with all the love and protection that a mother can give.  The next step of pushing you out into the world, is the beginning of letting go.  That is what mothering becomes.   Incrementally letting go, and pushing you out into the world.   I am letting go of Hannah right now by watching her successfuly separate from me to go to preschool.  I am letting go of Noah by giving him the independence to navigate our neighborhood unsupervised with his friends.   And I will have to let go of you literally and hold my breath while you work to take your first breath.  It is wonderful to see your children take those steps of independence, one by one.  But it is also hard.  Letting go of the very beings you would do anything to protect.  Worrying about any harm or discomfort they might endure.  Having to step back and let them make mistakes in order to grow up.

Right now, is mother’s bliss.  Okay, so it is a little hard to walk up the stairs, roll over in bed, and even pee.  But that is nothing.  I would do that for the next 20 years if I could ensure that you would grow up safe, happy and ready to take on the world.

It just doesn’t work that way.  So for the next several days until I give birth (another incredible mothering experience, and another post), I will just savor this wonderful feeling of carrying you around inside of me.   There is no rush.  You and G-d just keep putting on the finishing touches and I will enjoy knowing that I can hold you safely and completely to myself.

This post is written with my two daughters in mind. I don’t know if all women find spiritual guides, and I can’t speak about spiritual guides for men at all. I don’t know if there even is an equivalent for men. But for me, this is something that I hope my daughters will search for and find.

Lately, as I face two very intense emotional, physical, and spiritual experiences: 1). giving birth and 2). taking myself and my family through mikvah for a second more orthodox Jewish conversion. I have been struck by the fact that I am not facing these events alone. Sure my husband will be there, but he will be having the experience with me, not guiding it. I don’t think I really consciously realized before, how crucial having a spiritual guide is in this process.

Carol Schnitzler who runs the Mikvah, and Debbie Lesnick my midwife are two of these women to me. They are unbelievably humble and understated, considering the magnitude of what they do. They are not my best pals that I shoot the breeze with on a daily basis. They actually step into my life when I am preparing to strip myself emotionally, spiritually, and physically naked, to walk up and get as close as we get in this world with G-d. They take the hand of your soul and walk with you, guiding you through the most intense experiences of your life. Then they keep holding your hand, to make sure you make it back in one piece. When they are sure you are whole and safely delivered through this life changing event, they let go, and quietly move on to the next woman who needs them. They don’t hang out. They are in high demand. I can’t tell you how many women I have compared notes with and found that we have each “discovered” the best (same) spiritual guides. I don ‘t know if they even get much sleep, to tell you the truth, given how many women they help.

This has been on my mind lately. How simply and quietly they step in to my life when I need them, (during the biggest events of my life) and then just as quietly step back out when the need is over. They are like G-d’s travel guides.

Finding these women is not a “gimme”. I chose the wrong guide when I gave birth to my first child. She was a midwife, and looked like the real thing. But she was not up to the challenge, and the experience ended up being traumatic rather than amazing. Likewise, I have been to Mikvah with women in attendance that didn’t have a spiritual bone in their body. So, I am not sure of the exact formula. But give up any pictures in your head of what you think she will look like.  Keep an open mind and heart.  When you find her you will know. Can it be a man? I don’t think so, but I don’t honestly know.

And THANK YOU. To these women who have made such a difference in my life. Words are not enough.