The F-word.

I’m not my best at 4am. Then again, show me someone who is.

Last night, everyone I live with made a subconscious decision to be very much awake and in some sort of need at 4am.

My son woke up to pee. Innocent enough, and while I’m very proud, he did it in a shrieking, freaking, panic-y sort of way: “Waaaahhhh peeeee waaaaahhhh peeeeeee!” Make that plural, since he had to go repeatedly in a 30 minute span, and throw a ‘kocky’ in there for good measure.

My husband, after helping son to the bathroom the first time, pulled a muscle in  his back. Heating pads, pillows on the floor, pressure pointing.

Then the hunger wail started. My daughter was hungry. Forever after. Wouldn’t let me put her down to help son with the on and off peeing. Wouldn’t let me put her down to get some kind of respectable sleep. She just loves me that much, you see.

At some point, my son was on the toilet, my husband was lying on the floor in agony, and my daughter was over my shoulder, when she wretched a liter of 2% down my back. As I grabbed a towel to mop up the mess, I looked up at nobody and figuratively threw up my hands:

“For fuck’s sake!”

I looked up and my son was staring at me. My little, innocent, delicious son, throned on the toilet, pants around the ankles, looking back at me.

“What dis?”

“What?” I exasperated.

“What dis?”

“What.” I spewed.



“It means… It means… Ima’s overwhelmed.”

Another wonderful, glorious, wouldn’t-give-it-up-for-anything night with the f-word.





Koala’s path to big boy-dom.

Lucky for me, I have a wise, experienced professional at my disposal in times of parenting need (thanks, mom), so about a month ago a ‘sticker chart’ was instated at our home for Koala.

I highly recommend it. It has been fun, exciting and super-helpful, and I’m just talking about for me… But Koala has been enjoying racking up sticker points with enthusiastic cries of מדבקות!!! after wake up and before bedtime.

We chose a few targeted issues: toilet training, brushing teeth, going to bed/waking up calmly (no crying, for the love of god), using words, and playing ‘by myself.’ I think each of the areas are improving drastically, with toilet training currently at #1 in achievement and importance.

And because this is my space right here, I’m gonna say it: I’m proud of myself. Yeah, I did an awesome job here. Since Koala started expressing potty-interest over a year ago, it’s been a free-flowing, paced effort since then, until more recently, when we were more engaged and encouraging as he became increasingly interested.

I’d been waiting for the right time; Bebe was born in spring, and then summer didn’t work because we were going to New York. Sukkot was perfect: two weeks at home, no gan, so I could have full control of the situation and hammer it in for a toilet-training boot camp period.

So that’s what we did, and we’re out on the other side since for three days now it’s been undies all day with one accident a day. He spent Friday at gan with no issue, and the ganenet was really supportive (something I didn’t expect because I’m so skeptic and jaded about that…).

So, yeah, I feel good. It was smoother than I thought because he is old enough (2.5) and willing. I went with the flow (pun alert) and it worked it out. Score one for the laid- back moms!


Welcome home, Gilad Shalit, our brother soldier.

There’s no doubt: this is bittersweet.

Today we’re proud. We’re relieved. We’re emotional. We’re exhausted.

Tomorrow we’re going to continue mourning. We’re going to be extra cautious. We’re going to be angry. We’re going to feel even more pain.

Today we can be mothers of lost soldiers. Mothers waking up from a nightmare.

Tomorrow we’ll be mothers constantly on the lookout. Mothers in reality.

This has been a conflicted process, and there are simply no sufficient words for the people who are not able to hug their sons and daughters today… or any day… ever again. We can’t forget their pain – them being our brothers and sisters as well – especially as we’re at great risk to once again experience it in the future.

Something I loved today was the way Gilad and IDF Chief Ganz met and saluted, and then Ganz pulls him in for a giant fatherly hug.

A word on Gilad: It’s pretty amazing how composed he’s been. How much he’s been smiling. I guess I expected a different guy. Clearly exhausted, fatigued, malnourished, but still composed, orderly and calm.

Now that he’s home we should continue to pray that his health improves and he gains the ability to fulfill whatever role he’s meant to play next.

And that we should have no more Gilad Shalits, ever.