A few recent pics

In no particular order, and mostly because I have to show off my adorable children.

Watching Abba make a fire 12/10

Riding the Abba rollercoaster

Ilan the Knight Lowell

Brothers on Yom Katom

Abba made us funny hair!

Gavriel on Bear Mountain 10/10

Nadav, where is your tummy?

Gavriel, Chanuka 2010

Nadav, Chanuka 2010

These are the people in your neighborhood... Chanuka 2010 Nadav L, Ilan R.

Astronaut Gavriel is 7!

First Day of School 2010

First day of nursery school 2010

First Day of School 2010

Ilan Hanging with Abba

Nadav being a seagull at Coney Island August 2010

Ilan being a seagull at Coney Island, August 2010

the Boys on Bear Mountain, October 2010

flying leaves! Fall 2010

Trains with cousin Leon, thanksgiving 2010

Brothers. Coney Island, August 2010.

Hanging by a thread...

I am a scrapbooker. Not by professional, of course. But it's a hobby. In fact, it's therapy. While my children enjoy seeing their faces around the house, the journaling I put on the pages is for me. Some of it is hidden, and some is in plain view. But it is my catharsis. I thumb through the pictures of their infancy, and decide how to best show their personalities while also doing justice to my need to process what it was like to mother them at that stage of their lives. That child for who they were as I saw them then.

Six months ago I scrapped this beautiful picture of my vibrant Ilan:

The title is Hanging By A Thread.
The text reads: Who makes up these expressions anyways? Don't they know what they really mean? Keeping your head above water is just one breath away from going under. And hanging by a thread is only one fragile break from falling in to the abyss. 
Or maybe that's exactly what it means.
I'm fighting medication changes. Sedation. Migraines. Dry mouth. Back pain. Shoulder pain. Weight gain. These days it feels like I'm fighting everything. And hanging on by a mere thread.
So it's a good thing I use heavy-duty string. 
Today, this picture is my thread. Those beautiful eyes looking out at me, the smile, that impish grin, frozen in place, planning his next move, next adventure.
For today that will have to be enough.

It has been a hard year for me. What I wrote 6 months ago still stands. Pain. Too much pain. Too much medicine rigamarole, on top of real life as a mom of three with a husband in grad school. But it hasn't all been bad. We've had lots and lots of happy days too. Playing together, cooking together, learning together. Personal accomplishments. Awards and professional recognition. Many fewer diapers, many more books read, a gangly tall child with a karate belt and a loose tooth, and two parents who gave shiurim to the kehila this summer. And cinnamon rolls. Lots of those too.

I can't get back the last 6 months of lost blogging. Funny things the kids have said that I've forgotten. Wise things I've thought in the night that have gone the way of lost dreams and memories. But I still have those eyes grinning at me every day, as well as two other sets, and for today that will have to be enough.

If you're still here checking once in a while, thank you, for believing that one day I'd be back.

My Adventure

I'm in the midst of my journey home, and waiting to board my first flight, and trying to process this trip. It was a whirlwind. Very little sleep for several days, followed by a day of rest at the end.

Warning- this will be a drawn out post with much detail. I don't want to forget anything, and also people have asked me for details of the trip, so here they are! Skip to the pictures if you just want to see the good stuff,

I will follow up this post with another once I get home and can upload my pictures.

My journey started out at 4am when I awoke and started the day by kissing my boys goodbye. Always a precarious venture in the middle of the night, but I deemed it worth the chance. Luckily no one woke and I tiptoed out the door to my waiting cab.

The boys all dressed up for Yom Yerushalayim. Ari sent me this pic in the morning of the twins singing the abc to G while he brushed.

I flew to Miami and then connected to Orlando. I was very fortunate and flew in first class. Some weird thing on the American miles system that made both economy and first the same amount of points. This was really lucky, because it's hard for my body to fly alone and carry all my belongings, not to mention the old, thin seats I spotted in economy. I had the bulkhead too, and so I could lift up my feet the entire time, and arrived in pretty good shape physically. I slept most of the way since I had only gotten a couple hours of sleep the night before.

I waited for my friend, D, to land and we headed out to Disneyworld. I haven't been there since 2nd grade, and it certainly was an experience. Again, we were very lucky, and there were virtually no lines! We couldn't believe our luck, and joked about the power of the Jewish-Episcopalian force. We rode and walked a lot, and then headed over to the Epcot world pavillion for sunset. Finally we headed back to our rental car and drove to Cocoa Beach, close to Cape Canaveral and the motel where all the NASA people stay. It was fun playing spot the astronaut. NASA guys are easy to spot- khakis, polo shirts, straight backs, and hightop military haircuts.

We couldn't resist and ran out to the beach, only a few feet away. It was pitch black and the stars were gorgeous. I miss stars. I was tempted to grab a scientist and have them show me all the contellations, as I only recognize a few of them, but since it was midnight I did my best to control myself. We quickly took off our shoes, and rolled up our pants. The sand was smooth- no rocks or big shells, and the water was warm and the surf gentle. Such a difference from our Atlantic up the coast.

Finally we went back and got our bags from the car and settled in to our room and went to sleep.

The next day was one of those unexpected pleasures that take you by surprise for the sheer joy of it. I awoke to find that we had been joined in the night by a friend of my friend, K. I knew she was coming, but it was still funny to discover. D had left early for a day of press activities at Cape Canaveral and we were going to join her later in the morning.

K and I clicked immediately, and had a great time together. It was a great surprise and I quickly had a new friend. We suspect that D knew this would happen, and texted her asking if she knew we were essentially the same person. She laughed and said, yep!

We headed over to Cape Canaveral where reality of what was going to happen set in. There was an air of history in the making combined with sadness and nostalgia. K is a physicist who works on the Mars rover missions, and is the daughter of an astronaut who was on two shuttle missions.

We spent most of the day at Kennedy Space center, seeing the exhibits, rides, taking pictures, and listening. Everyone who worked there had concerns about shutting down the shuttle program before a viable substitute is in place. It's a dangerous place to be so dependant on the Russians, was the general consensus.

Toward the end of the day we were able to go to a Launch Status talk, and could see the launch pad in real time, and were briefed on what was happening with the fuel tanks, the orbiter, and crew 24 hours before the launch. It was really exciting to see how much was going on in preparation!

That night we got to hear D's stories about her day with the press junket, and her talks with the NASA brass about the future of the space program, as well as detailed information about the upcoming Atlantis mission.

I also spent a half hour trying to practice with Gavriel for his spelling test the next day, much to the amusement of K, who thought it was hilarious to listen to.

Friday dawned clear, with only a few clouds, and it looked like the weather would cooperate with the launch. The big question was whether anything else would cause a scrub. The window of opportunity was very small, about ten minutes. And the following day had a similarly small window. So we kept making jokes about what we would do if there was a scrub- mini golf, margaritas, etc. but what was unsaid was how big our disappointment would be if the shuttle didn't take off.

D left for the press pool. K left for the space center since she was able to get closer due to her father having some connections. She felt bad leaving me, but I did my best to reassure her that she earned any perks his status could get her. Having watched her father sit on top of a massive rocket not once but twice earned her the world in my opinion!

I had the choice of trying to get closer to the Cape or head to the beach to watch. By all accounts getting anywhere closer would be insane traffic wise, and the beach was definitely within viewing and hearing range, so I decided to stay at Cocoa Beach. I got myself a beach chair and an umbrella, slapped on a lot of sunscreen, grabbed my kindle and went to relax.

It was awesome. I had a clear view of the water, clear view out towards Kennedy, a cool breeze blowing on me, and a shady spot to watch the waves. It was pretty quiet, and I just relaxed. It was the best possible way to spend my morning.

Towards the launch time, more and more people crowded on the beach. The umbrellas emptied out as everyone walked down closer to the water for an unobstructed view. I followed the progress via twitter and saw they were dealing with a last minute loose ball bearing, and had a few tense minutes until they cleared it. Someone near me had a radio, and we counted down. Everyone stopped- on the beach and the water. Time stood still, only the sound of the waves touching us. Finally we saw a fireball low on the horizon, raising quickly into the sky. Everyone erupted into cheers and applause. White tails followed her, and we could see when the boosters burnt out and the flame changed to just the main fuel. She continued up into the clouds, and then, many seconds later, we heard the roar. The speed of sound had caught up with the speed of light.

The shuttle finally disappeared from our view, and the man with the radio told us she was at 19 miles up at that point. She was so bright, we had been able to see her 19 miles away! We could see the ships waiting to go fish out the boosters which was dropped into the ocean before the orbiter enters orbit, but didn't see the white boosters themselves.

A few minutes later NASA twitter announced Atlantis had acheived orbit. It took many more minutes before the white smoke trail dissipated in the clear blue sky.

And that was that. We had witnessed Atlantis' 32nd shuttle flight, and the 132 flight of a US space shuttle into low orbit, on due course to rendevous with the international space station.

The crowd dispersed, everyoen talking excitedly. About an hour later, I made my way over to the outside bar/cafe area, and watched while the NASA families slowly trickled in, wearing sts-132 shirts, and glowing with a job well done. They deserved all the praise and had pulled off a flawless pre-launch and launch. It was time for a break, and they would party for hours to come, hosted by the commander's wife, a tradition following every launch. I reluctantly took my leave and drove with K to orlando, to a nicer hotel for shabbat, wondering all the while if these amazing, proud americans would find a place in the new shuttle-less NASA.

We left the coast and headed for orlando, moving to a nicer hotel courtesy of frequent flier miles. My luck continued and we were upgraded to a deluxe suite, which was beautiful.

Then I discovered the sunburn, caused by accidentally rubbing off my sunscreen when I reapplied it after swimming in the ocean. Not a great way to finish out the vacation, but worth every minute on that beach.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip. I learned many things, including the fact that the people down at Kennedy are very scared of what is coming in the future. I don't know what the policymakers will decide if our ultimate path in space travel, but if the caliber and dedication of the people I met down there is any indication, the future of NASA is in very good hands.

As for my boys, they were in even better hands, of my husband and our dear friend Dovid. I am so thankful to them for allowing my free spirit to soar, even though it left them grounded behind.

Taking off for home. Will add in pictures and video when I'm home.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

What is your real job?

Once in a while, Gavriel asks me what my job is. And I flinch every single time. Internally of course.

I tell him I learned how to be a social worker, explaining in his terms what that is, and then explain that right now I'm not doing that, and my job is to take care of him and his brothers and his abba, and my body. Sometimes he accepts it, and sometimes he says, "no ima, but what is your real job?"

It's hard not to feel judged when your six year old asks something as value laden as that, but I remind myself he's not judging me, just trying to sort things out in his head, and it affects me because of how sensitive I feel about the issue.

I love stay at home mothers. I think it's a phenomenal job, and admire homeschoolers even more, for the patience and selflessness those mothers must have. I just never planned on being one. I always envisioned myself as the mother with perfect balance. Work for a half day, in an all important job affecting real people and changing lives, and then home for the rest of the day with my children, while at the same time being the perfect homemaker my mother was.

What unrealistic expectations.

There is no such thing, except maybe on tv. I don't know one mother who doesn't sacrifice herself in at least one arena be it professional, emotional, physical, spiritual, in order to balance the demands of life in 2010. It's not enough that we stay home, it's not enough that we work, it's not enough that we juggle a household, practice attachment parenting, manage an active household, provide nutrional meals, make sure to get physical activity, fight a bad economy. It's never ever enough. And I've found few mothers with small children who don't walk around with an air of breathlessness. How can we possibly catch our breath, with so many expectations put on ourselves?

Although blessed in some of these, in some ways I have it even worse, because I've been forced to abandon many of those ideals in order to address my physical problems. So I try to live in a state of feeling it just has to be good enough for now. Not quite enough that I'm proud of what I've become, but enough so that I don't lay awake at night thinking of all I'm not doing- for my children, my husband, my people, and myself. My circle of influence has become much smaller than what I once envisioned for myself. I was raised to believe I could do anything, be anything. I had the brains, the talent, the education. The sky was the limit, as far as I was concerned. So much so that each time I made a professional choice, I felt a pang for those opportunities left behind despite it being my choice. The ones I would never do, despite the potential.

It's painful, I think, for my mother, to see the person I've become. Oh, I know she thinks I'm a good mother, at least I hope she does. But I'm not a religious giant, not a therapist, not a doctor, or a scientist. Instead I spend my days running to doctors or therapies, endless carpools and groceries, just like she did for so many years.

Sometimes I hear of greatness, and think, I could have done that. Then I go home, and I read to my children. Make yet another scrambled egg, another load of laundry. And I think- this is okay. This is where I'm supposedly to be today. Today this is my sphere of influence, and this is what I will do best today. I will raise my three little boys into men. And while sometimes I think about lost opportunities, this is one I never envisioned growing up. Just how important my presence is right now.

There will be time, later on. I will teach, or listen, maybe deliver babies, and maybe one day even fly into space as I once dreamed. I will make my mark, however I can. But the mark I can make on these little men right now is so much greater than any I could achieve elsewhere. Being human instead of superwoman is rather humbling.

Somewhere inside, I keep the hidden dreams tucked safely away. Not destroyed, just in stasis for now. I know I won't get to all of them. But that's okay. If I manage to focus my passion into my mothering, that will help keep my spark alive for the day that I look to expand my sphere outwards. And I do other small things in the meantime, to keep those dreams alive. Counsel friends, read about birthing, and always, always, follow the space program. I don't talk about it much, but that dream is always there.

When I was a little girl I wanted to be an astronaut. I went to space camp twice, I pretended to do spacewalks, piloted the shuttle on missions. Rode the simulators and loved the adventure. I still hope that one day in my lifetime civilians will be able to ride in space without paying a fortune to do it. I don't know if it will ever become a reality, but my grandmother used to tell me about their buggy in Iowa and how much the world had changed since her youth, so I continue to believe it could be.

Next week I will have a chance to continue my dream, even though the real culmination may never happen. The space shuttle program is closing down, and only three launches remain. US astronauts will for the foreseeable future be limited to hitching a ride with the russian rockets, same as everyone else. Meanwhile, I didn't study science, and my back doesn't allow me to ride on rollercoasters, let alone a rocketing spaceship. I may never make it into space. But next week I will see one of the last space shuttles fly in to space.

I have an opportunity to go see the launch in florida, and meet some of the NASA astronauts and flight control crew. I told Ari of my chance, and even though the timing is terrible, he told me I have to go.

And he's right. I have to. If only to teach my children that I have passions too. I have my dreams, and they are worth fighting for. Even if most days it doesn't seem like I'm getting any closer, they live within me.

So the next time I'm asked what is my real job? Live. Be happy where I am today. Be complete with what I have. But always, always, strive for more. Not because I'm incomplete where I am, but because those dreams and yearning make me even more complete.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

The twin thing.

The last couple of weeks I've gone out with the twins a few times on outings in public. Something many twin mothers do all the time, but that I have stayed away from because of my body and my sanity. It's been great and each time I come home exhausted but beaming. Ari thinks I'm absolutely crazy and compares taking them out to herding cats. But I love it. I'm proud of them. I'm proud of me, and as long as you're able to ignore the inherent chaos within, it usually goes pretty well.

Long gone are the days when I smile to people say to me ignorantly, oh, I've always wanted twins! So did I. I mean, seriously, it's the cutest thing ever to take two dolls and dress them the same. Fawn over two babies laying sleeping together in the stroller. Who wouldn't want that?

Whoever said "oh, I've always wanted twins!" has never actually taken care of them for more than an hour or two.

Actually, that's not completely accurate. There are a chosen few who excel in caring for them. We worship these people when we find them, and bribe them as much as possible to move in with us. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to who can handle it, other than they love children, are confident in their ability to handle children, stay calm in the face of chaos, and have a good amount of physical strength. But the fact is, there are very few people who walk away from my home after watching the twins without needing a very long nap, and double checking their birth control.

The irony is, my twins are actually very, very, good as these things go. They sit well at mealtimes, go to sleep on a dime, follow directions pretty well for two year olds. Heck, they even do well in a parking lot. In fact, when I take one out on his own, it's the easiest thing in the world, because they really are well-behaved. But the issue is, in the world of twinsanity, 1+1 does not equal two. There's some cosmic metamorphosis that happens when you get them together that causes a ruckus that is both charming and immensely draining. So you end up trying to herd very cute monsters.

It's not their fault that they both need me RIGHT NOW. They're kids. Every child has a right to a drink, a book, a snuggle, a snack, a coat, the potty, a good cry, or whatever the need may be at that time. The problem, however, is that I'm losing brain cells these days, not gaining them, which is having a direct correlation on my ability to multitask. I can block out the demanding, but I really can't address them all at once. So they learn to wait. They learn to be patient. They learn that they are not the center of my family, but a part of it, something that my eldest struggles with. They learn that even though it involves waiting, I will eventually get to them, and do my best to fill their need.

The result? They are fantastically happy kids. My bandwagon kids, I call them. They're up for anything, any outing or adventure, so rare is the occasion. They generally eat what I give them, or if they don't want it, don't waste much breath complaining about the lack of choices. They take each other to go play downstairs or outside. They are oblivious to whose clothes is whose and whose books are whose. They love to watch me cook, and don't think about it taking away from their time. When they're sick of me they go find each other and make up a game.

 Of course, this could be an age thing. 2-3 is much more happy go lucky and indifferent to personal self than 6. But somehow I think that being born into a family that they joined instead of created has somehow altered their consciousness permanently. They do each have their own self-image. Each one has a very distinct personality and they are incredibly different, something every visitor remarks upon. But despite the differences, they draw strength from each other rather than oppose (at least most days.)

I lay awake racked with guilt thinking about how little I give them compared to what I gave G. But then, I see them taking comfort in each other. In their big brother. In their own selves. And I think, maybe this isn't so bad. They're doing pretty well, all things considered. And the trade off to the lack of individuality is that they will never ever be lonely.

Then of course I worry about what will happen one day when they are lonely. But I'm a mother, it's my job to worry. And their job is to ignore it all and continue to take joy in one another.

So when people come to me and say, oh, I always wanted twins! I nod politely and continue on my way, or I say- it's hard on the parents but amazing for them. But inside I am flexing my muscles. Parenting is most likely the hardest thing I will ever do. But as in all challenges, I am building up my muscles, and very, very proud of them.

Overheard in the Lowell Home

In no particular order but I'm sure you will notice the themes in our homes these days.

Ilan: I'm angry! And I'm sad! Because I want to play baseball!
Ilan: excuse me sir!
Ilan: where'd my nadavi go?
Ilan: no, his name is nadavi, not idav!
Ilan: ima, take anoder picture of me!
Ilan: wanna watch a movie! Me wanna watch superman!
Ilan: me want play munchkins too! Okay ima, your turn!

Nadav: me idav. He's ilan, and me idav!
Nadav: me sleep wit ima's giraffe. Dat funny?
Nadav: me ate it all up. Dat funny ima?
Nadav: that's my ima's hat. Dat funny?
Nadav: ima, I lost you! I'm sad.
Nadav: me want to watch you (cooking, playing, whatever)
Nadav: where'd my ilani go?
Nadav: me superman!

Gavriel: Ima, let's play munchkins. Ima, what are boots of butt kicking?
Gavriel: ima, I have lots of potions, see?
Gavriel: Ima, let's play superheroes. Who do you want to be?
Gavriel: ima, what pajamas are the twins wearing tonight, I want to match them.
Gavriel: ima, let's fly to great zayde. But let's not take the brother. And while we're there we can go see the deathstar (mall of america legoland)
Gavriel: ima... (Imagine 30 minutes of continuous chatting regarding nonsensical superheroes, pokemon, bakugan, and torah all mixed together)

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Nighttime wanderings

Some nights, no ones moves from their bed or cries. Other nights, it feels like Grand Central Station around here. You just never know how the night is going to play out.

I'm laying in bed tonight, reading about Bella and the Volturi, and eating matza pizza (no, I don't have a life, thank you very much.) I hear crying from Ilan, which is not a big shocker. He's my most frequent crier.

I went in, sighing as once again I respond to his cries, only to be pleasantly suprised at the sight of both of my little ones smooshed together in his small toddler bed. He was crying because he was too hot all covered up and with Nadav so close.

I'm seriously dying of the cuteness.

Then not five minutes later, I'm back in bed, and I hear G in the hallway. He's standing there, crying, and completely asleep. I'm reminding all my loyal readers, I take no responsibility for this gene, because although he got it from me it's from my mother! SHE'S the culprit!

I walked him back to bed, to find all his many many stuffed animals lined up, peering at me from over the bed rail. Once a line maker, always a line maker, I guess. That kid is either going to be a vet, a zookeeper, or a taxidermist. Please God let it not be the latter!

Signing off for the night. It's only ten pm, but God knows how many wakings we'll be having tonight. Just don't tell the kids that I secretly love it when they do this... as long as I'm not sleeping yet.

Just when you think you've got it all, that things are pretty good and you're happy, they swoop in and give you just a little more. Those are the best nights, wanderings and all.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Mitoch Tza'ar Bah Simcha- Out of Grief Comes Happiness.

Today is Israel's birthday- the 62nd, since the establishment of the state of Israel. 

Not an easy day, following on the heels of Yom HaZikaron, Memorial Day. Not easy at all. So much so that I tried to avoid Memorial Day yesterday, but ended up feeling inexplicably depressed anyways. My soul knew, even if my brain tried to deny it. So I finally sat down and instead of trying to forget, I remembered. I remembered my roomate, Yael, who was gunned down along with her husband outside their home, at nine months pregnant. My Rav's son, Shmuel, who was killed on pesach in Jenin, my Rav Eli and his wife Dina who were murdered at the shabbat dinner table in front of their children, the child I once babysat, Kobi, who was stoned to death with a friend playing hooky from school. I prayed for strength to be a rock for those who have lost more than I. For my faith. Wisdom for our leaders. For the untold thousands who I don't know personally who have been lost. For the families. I prayed in thanks for being saved several times just minutes from such tragedy, for my husband who served and came out without a scratch, and I prayed for my sons, who one day might be asked to stand a post and guard that which we hold so dear. A blessing to live in the days of redemption, a state of our own after thousands of years, and yet it comes at such a dear price.

And it helped. Some things need to be acknowledged before they can go away, I suppose. And then the inevitable shift from sorrow to joy- to celebration and gratitude. My boys all went to school today in blue and white. I forgot to take a picture, but will do later today. Tradition, after all, is an important thing. I proudly send them off in blue and white, they should know and hold Israel with them, even though we aren't there today.

It's been a busy month. Of course, it's always busy. But we had a busy Passover, followed by a week of visits by Ari's parents, followed by a long weekend with good friends. All good things, but today is the first day of our home being empty again. It seems so quiet. Not that that will last, of course, since as soon as the kids come home we have enough noise for one family and then some. Good noise though- happy, loud, and boisterous.

Yesterday I went to pick up the twins from day care, and Ilan asked me, "Ima, did you have a good day?"

I ask him that myself every day, so it's not surprising that he mimic me, and yet, something in the asking was so considerate, he really wanted to know. So I hugged my three Israeli boys close to me tight, said a prayer that they never be in the line of fire themselves, and said, yes, Ilan, I had a very good day.

Today I celebrate. I wipe away the tears, take a deep breathe, and don my own blue and white. This is how the Israelis do it, and I count myself among them. We grieve. And then we dance. It is the way God chose to give us our country, and we continue the observation each year as a reminder that our State comes at a very dear price. We dance with such joy because we cried the day before. The pain, the loss, the sacrifice- I wouldn't say it was worth it. How can I judge for those families what the cost is of their loss? No, not worth it persay, but remembered. We remember each payment as we celebrate. They are never ever forgotten. And we dance.