Channeling Johnny Cash

On the way to school today, Johnny Cash comes on the radio. I quickly claim my obvious parental duties, turn up the volume and formally introduce Liam to Mr. Cash. Liam clearly understood the importance of such an introduction and told me he wanted to see the singing. I explained this wasn’t a video, it was the radio. Liam continues to insist on “seeing” Johnny Cash sing. I tried to come up with a simplified way to explain the radio. It’s like hearing music on a video, Liam, but we can’t see them…we just hear it…(lame). Why is the kid making me come up with explanation like this in the morning? He’s listened to plenty of music on the radio, from CDs, from the ipod speakers in the living room, and on the ipad. The kid clearly recognized Johnny Cash for all the badass awesome that he is and needed a visual.

“PLEASE, Mommy, can’t we FaceTime with Johnny Cash??”

And that was the best moment of my day.

Do A Mitzvah

We all know that it takes a village to raise a child and most of us have carefully chosen what kind of village influences our children. Who will help them to be the best person they can be?

Since Liam has begun attending the preschool associated with the Jewish Community Alliance of Southern Maine he has been offered the chance to learn about citizenship and community support by “doing a mitzvah.” A mitzvah (as I’ve learned along with other Hebrew terms) means to do a good deed. The students sing a song about “doing a mitzvah” and their own good deeds are recognized aloud by the teachers and through mitzvah awards. Liam is over-the-moon-proud when he earns a mitzvah award. There is reinforcement about behaving in a way that earns one a mitzvah award. How much does that hug your heart?

Another way that Liam has learned about doing a mitzvah is by contributing items to the food pantry that is run out of the same building as the preschool. They can bring in a donation and earn a mitzvah sticker. The food pantry does not limit its resources to Jewish families, it is a place where anyone who has run into some bad luck may apply to receive this assistance. If their application is screened and accepted then the person requesting help can specify their needs and make an appointment to come pick up their items. Refugees from other countries, relocating in our area, are often recipients of these resources. People who had lives and occupations in a place that is no longer safe for them and they are trying to start from the bottom in a place that is honoring to help them do so.  Many families who are living paycheck to paycheck can apply for assistance through the JCA’s food pantry. One particularly high oil bill can sometimes set a family’s budget over the line in a downward spiral that seems overwhelming. I, unfortunately, personally know families that have gone through periods of job loss, in the economy as it is, and have used community-based resources such as the food pantry at the JCA. How phenomenal that these people–who could be any one of us at any time–can turn to a place in their community for help. Liam is having valuable life lessons modeled for him. Lessons that can not be learned through only being told to be good and helpful. He is learning what it means to be a charitable, gracious, and humble citizen of the world in a school that already teaches him so much in the classroom.

{Granted, the children do not actually hand out the donated items; but in contributing items to the food pantry and understanding the mission of the food pantry they learn that their community helps support us all and that is model enough for now.}

In what ways are mitzvahs modeled in your family?

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Sharing is Caring at the JCA

Other posts about Liam at the JCA:

http://bebediaries.com/2012/09/10/keeping-things-kosher/

Teachers Will Not Be Carrying Weapons

I write to process thoughts and emotions. In the instance of the Sandy Hook Elementary mass shooting I’ve had no words. Or rather, no sentences. Plenty of words that splutter out (senseless, why?, tragic, heartbreaking, why??, horrific, scary, empathy, why???, sympathy, love, fear, WHY) but no way to form them into comprehensible sentences. After obsessively refreshing CNN, NPR, ABC, and Facebook until well after midnight Friday into Saturday I steered clear from new information for a while. I had enough to make my broken heart throb and visions race endlessly through my head. I had enough to keep a constant stream of tears coursing from my eyes, while also drinking in every cell and particle that makes up my own son and daughter. The son and daughter that every parent should have an inalienable right to hug, kiss, and tuck in at night.

I was shocked at the first Facebook status I saw in regards to protecting gun rights. How could anyone let any other thought through their heads except, SIX YEAR OLDS MURDERED? Someone’s world, their hearts, their souls…taken. Then I cried again, that people were so selfish to want to protect the cold piece of metal that was the reason for so many dead.

If you think you have freedom because you can carry a firearm, but you don’t have the freedom to be standing in a mall, movie theater, or school without harm or death; then you have fooled yourself into believing you are free.

The party’s over, pronounced someone close to me that was formerly in the military. Tell every citizen to bring their @#&%ing gun to a local armory by Wednesday. You want to hunt? Fine! Drive over, check out your weapon, hunt, and return it to the armory. No more easy access guns. It’s done. All around me others I would have thought favoring guns surprised me into commenting about the changes that needed to be seen immediately. I don’t judge anyone negatively for hunting or even shooting guns at a shooting range. It’s not something I enjoy as an extracurricular activity, but when practiced responsibly and in a safe place, it’s not a danger to others.

Of course mental health is the driving factor for this and other cases of gun violence. Mentally stable people will not kill someone, unprovoked. Yes, if a person wants to kill someone and they are unable to get a gun they may use another method. It is pessimistic to think that every mentally ill person who thinks about killing people will do so just because they could have the means somehow. Stop it! Maybe they won’t. Maybe without the ease and convenience of, say, opening your mother’s gun cabinet, a sick person will never follow through. Maybe without weapons that have the capability to shoot so many rounds in seconds, less tragedy will bring an entire country to its knees over and over again. Maybe saving even one life, having one less person murdered, is worth it.

Lastly, I’ll dispel illogical statements about having teachers carry weapons. This will never happen. Doing this will create the unsafe environment for students that you are trying to protect them from. Do you know what kind of worlds have everyone armed and trained to kill others? The increasingly popular dystopian society books do. The kind of places that you think, oh that sounds frightening. I would never want to live there.

Mental illness can begin showing signs at an early age. There are elementary teachers who need a safety procedure in place in case a disturbed student puts themself or others in danger. Often times it involves removing everyone else in the classroom and having them be in a safe place while the student rages within the classroom. It is often dangerous for staff and students to attempt to physically remove such a student. The student may be throwing furniture, using language that is abusive for the other small ears to be exposed to, or the child may be in such a black-out fit of anger that they’ll use whatever they can get their hands on as a weapon. I once had an 11 year old student stab another student in the leg with the very sharp, metal point of a math compass. Imagine if such a student knew that I had a gun in the room?

I used to keep a box cutter in my classroom. It was to cut into tennis balls that could then be placed on the legs of the chairs so they didn’t scrape up the floor. I kept the box cutter hidden, covered, in a box, in the back of a high cupboard. And no one knew of its existence. That was the only way I felt safe about it being in the room, because it is irresponsible to have weapons within reach of children. Sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes kids are pressured or bullied into trying something that crosses boundaries they normally wouldn’t cross. There’s the possibility that even a sane child could accidentally cause harm with a weapon. Classrooms are supposed to be a safe haven of peace. A place children spend the majority of their day. We want children, and adults, to feel loved, nurtured, and safe in schools. Eliminating, not adding, weapons is the answer.

Let’s entertain the teacher-with-gun scenario for a moment. Say the teacher has a weapon “safely” unloaded and locked away from children. Would the teacher be able to reach the gun in time to use it against a person randomly attacking the school? Say the teacher is at the other end of the school and has time to locate and load a weapon. The teacher even shoots the attacker, ending the barrage. Meanwhile, so much time has gone by and the weapon used by the attacker shot hundreds of rounds by the time the teacher got there. Many lives are still lost. And students are still traumatized by gun violence, a shoot-out that now involves their trusted teacher.

Guns offer an impersonal convenience. You can kill someone from a distance. The victim may not even have time to make a noise. Say a mentally ill person tries to attack people in a school with a knife. I think it’s fair to say in most cases the attacker is not going to kill as many people as the in the Sandy Hook Elementary devastation, before being overpowered. Also, I may not have gun training, but I have self-defense training, and it’s possible that I could overpower someone who’s on the same “playing field” as me. Give me a rush of adrenaline and a set of car keys and I promise you that your babies under my care will not have a hair on their heads touched.

People who come into public places and terrorizes others are terrorists. We began a war on terror many years ago, but it will continue until we end the terror that grows within our own country every day.

I pray for peace and healing to every person affected by the Sandy Hook shooting. I weep for the children and adults, beautiful souls leaving this world too soon. I hope that everyone grieving for their lost loves has arms that they are able to cry in. I hope that teachers, students, and parents everywhere will come to a time when they don’t have a nightmare what if vision constantly playing through their mind. That parents will be able to tell their child they love them before dropping them off to school, but because they do-not because they’re terrified the last words uttered to their child would be anything else. I pray that even though there will NEVER be a justifiable reason as to why these innocent people lost their lives there will be repercussions that help to save someone else.

Hammy Downs

We have received a plethora of girl clothes as hand-me-downs (“hammy downs”). Mountains of them. I have bins stuffed full of clothes from ages newborn to 7 years. Not so many after 2T, but some. I hardly understand how there is a market for ALL of the new baby girl clothes in stores. I mean, I understand why people want to buy the adorableness of  baby couture, but the necessity of buying new has been barely justifiable for me. Luckily, I was able to indulge as Nora was low on some seasonal staples, like footie pajamas for 3-6 months. We’re good now.

A Hammy Down hat photo shoot

Meanwhile, I was going to hoard Liam’s clothes in bins in the basement, but key word being hoard here, I had to let go. Of some. Ok, most. I divided it up into a small amount of gender neutral that Nora could wear, a small amount of MUST KEEP items–just in case, and then split the remaining into “giveaway” or “consign.” Then I let a friend rifle through the consign bags.

Have you been [happily] bombarded by hammy downs? What’s your philosophy on previously-loved clothing?

 

The Psycho Mom Shower Scene

I close the bathroom door with a definitive click. I prop my iPad up on the tiled counter and press play for the newest Mumford & Sons album. Turning the hot water handle 3/4 of the way around and then the cold handle 1/16, I let steam curl around the edges of the shower curtain and form rolling clouds above the shower head. Once I’ve created a steam room similar to those I used to visit on spa days B.C. (“Before Children”), I step into the scalding onslaught of water.

I begin smoothing shampoo throughout my hair, my fingers tripping through the clumps of hair glued together by a special mix of baby spit, breastmilk, and boogers. I close my eyes to the water and bubbles that are running down my face when I think I hear a something in the background of the loud music. A squeak? A rattle? Never mind, the thoughts of aromatic salt scrub and pampering cloud my brain as the steam clouds my vision.

QUACK!! QUACK!! QUACK!! QUACK!! QUACK!!

The metal balls of the curtain hooks clatter as the shower curtain is ripped open and I’m assaulted by a disco display of blue lights peppering my body.

QUACK!! QUACK!! QUACK!! QUACK!!

Close to losing bladder control and nearly acquiring an instant migraine I splutter fragments of a question, “Whaaa?? Gaaah?? Duuck??”

Through my watery vision I see the blurred shape of a small person, hand outstretched, squeezing a tiny duck with a loud voice and a beaming blue light that flashed with each squeeze.

“Liam? What are you doing? That duck is awfully loud.” My 2 year old son giggles as he squeezes the blue light so that it travels from my chin to my toes.

“Oookay, Mommy’s chilly. Let’s just clooose this curtain so the chilly air can’t come in here.” I pull the curtain to it’s originally PRIVATE placement.

The quacking stops, but it’s a little too quiet.

“Liam?”

“YES??” He bellows. (The child has a natural ability in using his diaphragm.)

“What are you doing now?”

“HI-PAD!!” He responds gleefully. Aah, yes, that’s why my music had stopped.

The bathroom door slams as I’m left to rush through my cleansing before the next barrage.

Anyone else ever feel like this?

Keeping Things Kosher

It just warms my heart to return to my blog account after a serious hiatus because of life stressors weighing me down to find that I still have people coming to visit my blog.

Meanwhile…

Tonight was Parent Night at Liam’s new school. This was a 2 hour event where we noshed on potluck with our knees up to our chins in miniature chairs while listening to the school’s overall early childhood education intent and then was able to meet in the toddler room to hear about their personal curriculum. My eyes teared up with gratitude at being able to find such a nurturing, learning-rich, community driven place. Listening to his new teachers talk about the toddlers learning from guided play and how in-tune they are with every child’s needs made me leave with a more positive, uplifted feeling than I have in a while.

It was probably also a good thing I made it to Parent Night at the Jewish Community Alliance (where Liam is attending the Early Childhood Education program) because I learned the ham and cheese sandwiches we’ve packed him every day since he’s been there are basically the worst thing you can bring into a Jewish establishment. We’re all leaving the JCA more educated today, as I now know a little more about what kosher means. (Meat and dairy can not touch each other. And PIG meat…even worse.)

We are not Jewish, but I love that Liam is learning some tradition amongst the rest of his education at the JCA. On Fridays they celebrate a semblance of shabbat before the children leave. I also learned tonight that shabbat is a sort of way of welcoming the Sabbath day of rest. They eat challah bread, sing songs and the children receive Mitzvah Awards for good deeds they’ve been seen doing. Liam got one for sharing the pinwheel he brought from home and his teacher said he didn’t let go of that paper certificate all day. It traveled out to recess, he gripped it through snack, I think he even clutched it through nap. It was a little wrinkled by the time it came to hang in all of its glory on the kitchen wall.

It makes me giggle that I heard someone use the verb schlepping in real-life context tonight and that I heard Liam hollering to Nana, “Shabbat, shabbat, shalom!!!!” Not giggle in a disrespectful way, just in a new-vocabulary-is-fun kind of way. I think, if anything, it amplifies the depth and width of the education he’s receiving.

Shalom!