Make new friends and keep the old (but only if they're Christian).

I heard of such things, but I didn't believe they really existed, at least not among nice people. I figured the concept was just something people threw around to try to prove a point of bigotry. Sure, some bigotry exists, but I didn't believe it really existed in such an outright and confusing form.

People really exist who won't be friends with people who are not Christian. Please excuse me while I find my jaw and pick it up off the floor.

What's even "better," people--sweet nice people, won't be my friend because I'm not Christian.

The one in question (and I suspect now that there have been others) isn't some mythological awful vicious beast. She's nice. She's very sweet. She and I have a lot in common. I often invite her to parties and events and she always declines. I figured she was just busy with her large family and many commitments. Nope, she's just...Christian.

This blows my mind. I don't understand it at all. I tried discussing it with a (Christian) friend who laments that she's on the opposite side. She knows she has friends who are ONLY friends with her because she's Christian. She tried to explain the rationale to me as she's actually had this conversation with some friends including the one in question.

Turns out some people believe only fellow Christians can share their goals, beliefs and philosophies. I find this so odd because, for years, I recognized that my parenting style and goals were most similar to a fundamental Christian friend. Politically and religiously, we were polar opposites, but our goals in life (menschkeit, even if she probably wouldn't refer to it as such) and parenting were the same. We had a lot of fun together and we had some great discussions. She once called me, "Insightful," which, to this day, I think is the best compliment I've ever received. My life and my children's lives are richer because she and her children were a part of them.

In addition, I've been told that, some Christians basically have the idea that, "You're going to hell anyway and I'm not, so why bother getting attached?" Hold on. There goes my jaw again. Must go chase it as it rolls under my desk.

Now, I know many (if not most) branches of Christianity believe that faith in Jesus is the only way to heaven. Funny, though, many of those claim that their and only their exact interpretation of Jesus will drop you on the yellow brick road to heaven. Everyone else is either headed to hell's western shore or will have to renounce their beliefs in the end times. Honestly, I find that offensive. Go ahead and pat me on the head and say, "Oh, that's a cute little doily your son has on his head, but I'm right and you're wrong and in the end, you'll just toss that in the trash and hand him a 'Jesus Rocks' baseball cap instead."

Judaism believes it's actually EASIER to be a good person if you're not Jewish. We have 613 laws to follow. The rest of you have only 7 fairly simple ones (among others, don't murder people or eat a live animal and you're good to go).

In Judaism, we don't focus on the afterlife. Whereas Christian texts write extensively about heaven, we Jews know very little about what the world to come has to offer. That's because our focus is on the here and now. If we worry about our behavior here, the rest will take care of itself. So my concern is not who I'll share a booth with in the next life, it's who I'm sharing a drink with in THIS life and how I treat him or her.

I'm just stunned and in disbelief that this not only happens, but has happened to me and that it's done by otherwise nice people. What a shame! What an absolute shame!

What Motivates You?

At Hebrew school, my daughters' class was asked, "Why are you here? What motivates you to come to Hebrew school?"

One girl said, "So my parents can go on dates while I'm here for 2 hours."

Another said, "So my mom can clean without us in her way."

My daughters both said, "So we can teach our parents because they've forgotten all the Hebrew they ever learned."

At the end of class they added, "And so we can read Torah."

Nice save, kids. And hey, thanks for not throwing us under the bus like your friends did with their parents.

My weekly weight loss update (a few days late and a few pounds short)

Sorry I'm late with my posting this week. With Pesach and the news about my friend's mom, I've been so busy.

This week, I was 140.8. I have now lost 10% of my starting body weight. My goal was to be under 140 by Wednesday and maybe, just maybe, that will actually happen. I'm not sure, though, because that weight was at the end of the week, not my usual mid-week weigh-in. Plus I've splurged a little bit since then. I'm going to get lots of walking in tomorrow and Tuesday and then we shall see where that takes me.

The weather is so gorgeous lately. I'm going to grab the opportunity to be out in the sun as much as possible. I'm hoping I can start working in the garden soon. I'm not much of a gardener, but it's great exercise plus then we can grow our own healthy pesticide-free veggies. Plus it's always a homeschool lesson for the kids.

Tomorrow is another big meal night, but we're keeping it simple (fish, green beans [yes, we eat kitiniyot. Dh and I are Ashekenazi, but I'm Sephardic too, so Passover is the one time of year I pretend that other side doesn't exist] and mushrooms) and we'll have a little K for P wine.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I can hit that weight goal by Wednesday. Of course, I have a scheduled lunch date with friends that day. We're going out for Chinese to celebrate the end of Pesach and the return of chametz. It's not even bread I'm craving (I'm actually hoping to stay pretty low-carb even after Pesach has "passed over"). It's the sushi and soy sauce. Yum!

Feeling Defeated Until My Pants Start To Fall Down

I haven't lost as much as I had hoped and I've been feeling pretty let down about the whole thing lately. I was considering canceling my Weight Watchers online subscription and throwing in the weight loss towel.

Then I got dressed yesterday. The awesome super cute Target capris I got on sale were very loose--too loose to wear. So I put on a pair of jeans--real jeans, not the elastic waisted maternity ones. They were too big. *Gasp* Today, I put on the pair of jeans I wore to my oldest daughters' birthday party. Back then, I had to use my "sucker-inner" shapewear just to get them closed and even then, I had to hold my breath and lie down. Today, they closed without a problem and I was even able to get them down without unzipping or even unbuttoning them. *Double gasp*

I'm still heavier than I'd like, but this is the first time I'm actually seeing a difference in my body. I think this is the perfect motivation to keep going.

This week, I was down another pound. I'm just over 2 lbs away from having lost 10% of my starting body weight.

Pesach (Passover) starts soon. That's going to make doing WW kind of tricky (I can't find any Kosher for Passover WW foods) on one hand (counting points), but I usually lose a few pounds during Pesach just because my carbs are so limited.

I know it's going to be a stretch, but my goal is going to be 140 or less (I'm 143.6) by the time Pesach ends. Let's see how close I can get.

Like leprechauns, only with kippot.

Proud to be an Irish Jew (Hello, Jim!)
Originally uploaded by Daniel Greene

Happy Saint Patrick's Day, everyone. Yes, we are Irish. Yes, we're Jewish. Yeah, we're a pretty rare breed, but we are not, however, alone.

Apparently, there are enough of us to warrant not only t-shirts, but even jewelery.

So, I wish a Happy St. Patrick's Day both to my fellow rare Jews of Irish decent as well as to those Irish not of the tribe. To those of you who aren't Irish, I wish a happy Wednesday.

In case you're wondering, my father's maternal grandmother was Irish. My husband, too, is Irish somewhere way down on his father's side, but we're not sure where.

Weight Loss and Bad Guys With Tasty Ears

In health news, I'm officially down just over another pound. Well, I was when I weighed myself for my official weigh-in and when I weighed myself again today, I was down another pound from there.

My next goal was to be under 145 and I've made it. As a young teen, I hit 145 and for the first time ever, had high blood pressure and high cholesterol. I lost some weight, got everything back in check and swore I would never be 145 again. I have further to go, but I'm thrilled to have gotten here.

I've been playing around and managed to create a hamentashen recipe that's 0 points per serving. It's not fabulous, but not bad. It'll do. I'm going to try to play around with it some more, but it will have to be after Shabbat.

Purim starts very soon and I'm super excited. We're going to the Purim dinner after Havdallah on Saturday and the pancake breakfast on Sunday morning, so I'm going to need to plan accordingly.

The kids look adorable in their costumes. I think I look okay in mine. I didn't cringe when I saw pictures of myself in my dress, so that's a start.

Santa is dead.

Dear strangers,

Please do not ask my children if Santa is coming to visit them. If you should violate that first rule, then please, when they answer, "No," to your question, do not insist they must be wrong. When they politely, but firmly, continue to deny that a fat bearded strange man will break into our house, please do not insist that then my wonderful Jewish children must have been very naughty. Otherwise, I may be forced to teach my children to then loudly announce, "No. We haven't been naughty at all. Lying to children, however, is very naughty."

And yes, they would recite that and, knowing my son, recite it loudly.

The reason for the season

This time of year, we tend to get overwhelmed by the crowds at the malls, the traffic, and the hectic nature of it all (we've barely been home since Chanukah started because we've been at so many different events).

So, this time of year especially, we feel it's very important to remember to give back.

Here's what we're doing this year:

We donated our old coats to our synagogue's mitten menorah. They asked for new or slightly used coats, mittens, scarves, etc. So that's where the outgrown coats went.

We donated bags and bags of clothes to a local Veterans organization. All my maternity clothes went there (fare thee well, old friends) along with a whole host of the kids' old clothes. They picked up about 5 big garbage bags of clothes.

Our kids give tzedakah at Sunday school, which, this month, is going to a local food pantry. They've given both money and cans of pasta sauce which they bought themselves with their allowance money (can't beat 25 cents a can).

In an attempt to simply, we instituted the rule that, for each new item, an old one must go. So, we're cleaning out toy and book bins and donating them to that same Veteran's group.

How about you? What are you doing this holiday season? How do you teach your kids to give back?

This blog post is written as part of the Twitter Moms Holiday blog prompt in association with Robeez.

Robeez will donate a pair of soft sole shoes to K.I.D.S. with every soft sole purchased through December 23rd

For anyone looking for a gift idea this holiday season, these are the Robeez I would love for my daughter.

Shabbat Mornings = Perfection

On weekday morning, my husband is up at the crack of dawn for work. He says his goodbyes and leaves. The kids get up to play and I try to sleep as long as they let me.

On Sunday mornings, dh usually gets up with the kids, so I can stay in bed a little bit. Still, I have to get out of bed at a reasonable hour so we can dash off to Sunday school.

On Shabbat mornings, though, everything is different.

This morning was absolutely perfect and I really needed that. I think we all did. TheBaby woke up, so I brought her to bed to nurse her. She noticed daddy was asleep next to her. After nursing for just a little while, she came off, smacked at him calling sweetly, "Dada, Dada, hi. Hi, Dada." He woke up smiling and held out his hand to her. While holding his finger, she went back to nursing for a little while. Then she came off again to smile at us both and crawl up to our faces where the chatting and smiling continued. The three of us stayed in bed like that for a while. It was so sweet and so calm.

It was exactly what we needed.

"More than the Jewish people have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jewish people "

It's been called a, "Handful," but never an, "Honor."

I have four children. That's what we always wanted. During my last pregnancy, people apologized to me for the fact that I was having yet another one. Everyone wanted to tell me how rough it would be. People just love to ask, Have you figured out what causes that?" The most common phrase people use when they see us all out is, "You sure have your hands full!" They've been saying this ever since my twins were born and they were my first (and second) children. I usually bite my tongue because you never know what other people are going through, but I always think, "Better full than empty."

We don't consider our family to be all that large, but others seem to be absolutely shocked that we have oh so very many (insert eye roll) children.

So, on Simchat Torah, when we were HONORED for bringing the most children rather than ostracized for it, I felt wonderful.

I love Simchat Torah--love it. It's one of my very favorite holidays. This year, was probably the best yet. My oldest daughters did Israeli dancing with the adults and they sang with their Hebrew school (and did so wonderfully. My oldest daughter really surprised me with her poise and her knowledge). TheBaby fell asleep in my arms after nursing. She slept through all the singing and dancing, but I danced around with her in my arms anyway. TheBoy grabbed flags and ran and danced around with the others. My husband slunk back and tried to hide because he's not a big dancer and doesn't much like the spotlight (yes, it's true what they say about opposites attracting).

Before all the singing and dancing, though, the rabbi announced that the family with the most children in attendance would be called up to open the ark. That was us. So we all went up to do that. It was so nice to honored rather than pitied.

Bending Toward the Sun

I recently received a copy of Bending Toward the Sun which is written by Leslie Gilbert-Lurie with her mother Rita Lurie. The book is a memoir that shows how true events of the Holocaust altered the lives not only of those who survived, but their children and even grandchildren.

From the official site,
"Rita Lurie was five years old when she was forced to flee her home in Poland to hide from the Nazis. From the summer of 1942 to mid-1944, she and fourteen members of her family shared a nearly silent existence in a cramped, dark attic, subsisting on scraps of raw food. Young Rita watched helplessly as first her younger brother then her mother died before her eyes. Motherless and stateless, Rita and her surviving family spent the next five years wandering throughout Europe, waiting for a country to accept them. The tragedy of the Holocaust was only the beginning of Rita's story."

My husband is the grandson of German Jews who made it safety to American shores from Nazi Germany, so this book particularly resonated with me. Even though my entire family was safely in the U.S. by the time the War began, I am a daughter and I have daughters, so it spoke to me on that level as well.

This book is utterly fascinating. It's unlike any other book on the Shoa I have ever read. The jacket describes it quite well,
"A decade-long collaboration between mother and daughter, Bending Toward the Sun reveals how deeply the Holocaust remains in the hearts and minds of survivors, influencing even the lives of their descendants. It also sheds light on the generational reach of any trauma, beyond the initial victim."

I was astounded to find that this book begins where most books on the topic end. We find the Gamss family leaving their hiding place on page 53, the beginning of only the fifth chapter. The rest of the book focuses first on Ruchel/Rita Lurie's story in her own voice and then her daughter Leslie takes over. There's even a portion written (fascinatingly well) by Leslie's 12-year-old daughter Mikeala (I laughed out loud when she referred to Adolf Hitler as a "Power-hungry man with unfortunate facial hair"). I think this was a fantastic way to work this complex story. We get to really see the complexity of the trauma as it weaves its way through the different generations.

This was one of those books that I picked up and didn't want to put down. I was up until midnight last night because I found myself so hungry for more of the story. What happened next? I had to know. Even when I forced myself to put it down, I couldn't sleep because I kept wondering what more I would learn about Ruchel as she traveled around Europe and then headed to America where she began her transformation to Rita.

I picked it up again today and didn't put it down again until I had read it cover-to-cover. I became completely absorbed with the entire family in the beginning and never lost that interest or concern for them. The account left me wondering what would become of each aunt, uncle and cousin and the book answered my questions (in addition the official website has a fledgling "Where Are They Now" section which appears as though it will feature profiles of family members when it's completed). It was fascinating to first read Rita Lurie's account of growing up with her family and then to see those same family members and even their children through Leslie Gilbert-Lurie's account.

Leslie opens the book with an account which illustrates that her daughter, Mikeala, like her mother before her, has inherited that overwhelming intense fear of abandoment which is understandable, but debilitating at the same time.

I was struck not only by the fear which the Gamss family endured, but also by the normalcy they later created. Rita Lurie married at an early age and, by all accounts, she and her husband are still together and happy 50 years later. Her sister, Sara/Sandra was married 43 years before she lost her husband to Cancer. One of the great uncles Leslie interviewed was still married to the woman he married in Italy just after the war. They were able to find love. They were able to bring children into a world even though they had witnessed the absolute worst. They were cautious. They were weary. They were worn down, yet they were all survivors.

I just visited the website for this review and I'm impressed by all they have available there which compliments the book. I'm thrilled to find a resource section which includes a link for teachers. The additional family photos are fascinating. You can watch videos of Leslie discussing the book as well.

Rabbi Irving Greenberg calls this memoir, "heartbreaking, yet inspiring." I agree completely.

It's the Shehecheyanu-a-palooza at chez Reiza

TheBaby is our last baby. Her birth was so amazing that I would gladly do that again another 10 times, but we've agreed that four children is the perfect number for us. We had a difficult time getting pregnant every time and after my second pregnancy, we didn't even know if we'd be able to have another baby. The fact that we did and we carried TheBaby to term is a miracle. Yes, we found out after-the-fact that we lost two others during that pregnancy, but our daughter survived and she is wonderful. She has completed our family.

Yesterday, as I sat with her at my breast, I looked at her gorgeous chubby cheeks that puffed up and down while she nursed, her sweet long lashes on her delicate eyelids that were closed as she nursed to sleep, her chubby arms clutching my shirt and I felt the weight of her ever-growing strong and squishy body. I whispered the Shehecheyanu while she nursed.

I cannot be more thankful to G-d for allowing us to reach this season--this wonderful season that finds our home filled with happiness and healthiness.

Life, Death and Nourishment

Welcome, Carnival of Breastfeeding readers!
Make sure you take wander through the links to other carnival participants.

August 8 2009 edit: This post is being entered in the Breastfeeding Awareness Mommy Moment Contest.

I've mentioned this experience in an earlier post and I considered mentioning this in the recent discussion about unexpected benefits of breastfeeding, but I thought this would be best explained in a post all its own.

On the first anniversary of my brother's death, I nursed my daughter while praying and I will be eternally grateful for that experience.

My brother was given six months to live. He never made it that far. Cancer stole him from us the day we found out we were pregnant with twins.

In the Jewish tradition, you recite the Mourner's Kaddish on the anniversary of the death of a loved one (the yarzeit). This, however, can only be done with a minyan. You cannot stay home to pray. Kaddish must be said within a community of Jews.

So, I struggled to sit through services with two tiny babies, but without my husband (the military sent him away for training). Just before Kaddish was said, Girl1 got fussy. My initial reaction was, "Why now of all times?" I was annoyed, sad and overwhelmed, but my baby needed me. She helped pull me out of my misery and forced me to focus not only on what I lost, but on the remaining blessings I held in my hands, literally and figuratively. When it was time to stand for Kaddish, she was still nursing. I stood, clutching my daughter, and prayed.



While reciting those words for my brother, I stared into that tiny face of the child he never even knew existed. He was gone. Nothing could change that. Yet, while mourning that loss, I was effortlessly nourishing this new soul. It was such a simple moment, yet so profound. I was reminded that the world continued. Yes, there was death and destruction to be feared, but there was also love, beauty, and sacred simplicity to be cherished.

Breastfeeding does so much more than simply nourish my child. In that moment (and in others since then), breastfeeding fed my soul.

####

For other great breastfeeding stories, visit these other Carnival of Breastfeeding Participants:

Hannah's Weaning at Strocel.com
Weaning a Toddler from Laura's Blog
How Breastfeeding Changed My Life at a Mother's Boutique
Sticking With It: Our Breastfeeding Story at So Fawned
Breastfeeding Failures and Success from Grudgemom
Flying Breastmilk at And All The Sazz
Baby Carriers Down Under by Kandy
Ben’s story: The best breastfeeding advice, from the least likely source at the Massachusetts Friends of Midwives
The “I Told You So” at Blisstree.com
Breastfeeding is not easy, but it's definitely best for baby at Chronicles of a Nursing Mom
Story week post #1: "They said the latch was fine." at the Motherwear Breastfeeding Blog
Breastfeeding Made Me The Mother I Am at Breastfeeding Mums Blog
Can Early Public Breastfeeding Sightings Shape One’s Future Breastfeeding Practices? Breastfeeding Moms Unite
Celebrating my...chest! Zen_mommy
A Found Memory by Crystal Gold

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I love twitter. I just asked there for tips on dealing with a situation we're having with family and someone there helped get to the bigger issue. Of course, I still don't know how to deal with the smaller symptom of the bigger issue. I'm open to any advice.

I need tips on dealing with my father-in-law. He seems bothered by the fact that we keep kosher. My mother-in-law actually called the Pesach restrictions, "Stupid," in front of my kids during Passover, but my father-in-law is more vocal and persistent about his distaste for keeping kosher. Yes, we do, but no, we don't beat anyone over the head about it. We've never asked my in-laws to do the same. The only thing we've ever asked is that they not bring treif in our house. We never discussed keeping kosher with them, but my FIL feels compelled to bring it up.

He often feels compelled to tell us, "You know, those rules only exist because pork wasn't safe to eat back then." This last time, he added, "If I told you not to eat something, you'd tell me to go to hell,' but if I say, 'G-d says you shouldn't eat something,' you do it." I replied, "Actually, no. You tell me G-d told me not to do it and I'm going to read up and consult with others who are more educated on the topic than me before I make a decision." Well, I started to say that, but he cut me off and talked over me.

When I asked for advice on twitter, someone suggested not discussing it and showing respect. My first reaction was to be slightly offended. "But we TRY to show respect. We don't want to discuss it. My FIL just won't stop." Then it occurred to me that we do show respect, but my in-laws often don't. Oh, the stories I could tell you. There have been SO many times when they have done rude things and we just quietly let it go rather than creating a scene. When it's necessary, we speak up, but for smaller things, we try to be respectful and let it go. Unfortunately, that respect is not mutual. From what I've been told (by dh AND his parents), that lack of respect has always existed.

How do you deal with a situation where there's no respect for your family? We've tried having discussions with them. We've tried asking politely. We've tried getting the point across jokingly. We've tried ignoring it (which isn't really an option once you have children who can understand). There was one point where, at a family seder (before we had kids), I got up and left the table (they were making racist jokes AGAIN and I absolutely refused to sit there through it). I much prefer to deal with things less dramatically, though.

We're in an even rougher position because of my FIL's health issues. I can't stand to deal with the lack of respect, but at the same time, I'm now reluctant to get into anything because we never know when it could be the last time we see my FIL.

Luckily, they don't live nearby, so we haven't had to deal with this often. Still, I'm open to ideas and suggestions. How do we deal with this in general? Any tips on what to say to make my FIL stop voicing his distaste for keeping kosher? I'd also appreciate any tips on what to say to stop them from saying rude things in general in front of our children.

Think alcohol causes strange dreams?Try the matzah-induced dreams

I had a dream that my family was at Ian Ziering's house. He made dinner for us. It was some sort of soup with pasta in it. At one point, I looked over and my daughter hadn't finished hers. I asked her, "Aren't you going to finish your pasta?"

Suddenly, I was horrified to realize that it was Passover and we had just violated the dietary rules...at Ian Ziering's house...by eating some sort of pasta soup...prepared and served by Ian Zeiring.

I was absolutely panicked. It was one of those dreams where it takes you a few moments to realize it was a dream and then when you do, you are SO thankful to know it didn't really happen.

Some people dream about falling. Some people go home and dream of spiders. Some people dream of losing their teeth. Me? I dream of violating halacha with Steve Sanders. What the heck is the deeper meaning hidden in that?

To that, all I have to say is, "Dude, WTF?"

Another side effect of the bad economy

You all know my mom lost her job. It's only now that we're realizing one of the negative side effects.

Every year, one of the companies she dealt with would send her a package of kosher for Passover candy. She would send that on to us.

This year, no job means no K for P chocolate.

Pardon me while I pout like a 3-year-old.

Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh mannnnnnnnnnnnnnn!

When the cleaning gets tough,the tough eat snacky foods

Dear internets,
Thus far, my Pesach cleaning has consisted of repeatedly telling dh we need to start cleaning for Passover and eating all the snacks under the guise of ridding the house of chametz.

For this, I'm very very sorry (about not doing enough cleaning, not about the junk food).

Sincerely,
one bad (but not hungry) Jew

Home is where the school is.

We had a great few days thanks to unschooling. Now, ours isn't really an unschooling family. We use some more traditional things (work books, print outs, spelling tests, etc), but we have an unschooling flair. I like to take a natural learning approach to school.

On Sunday, I went shopping. Many items were half off. We've dealt some with fractions and multiplication, but we haven't done division at all. Still, both girls were able to accurately and easily tell me what the items would be at half price. They did it over and over again as they brought me item after item of (what they deemed) cute clothing and asked me to buy them because, "It's half price, so it's only...."

We have a map of the U.S hanging on the wall. They like to look at it to see how to spell the states and then they put them into a song and end with the Postal Service's abbreviation (don't ask. I have no idea why they do it, but they like the song). Today, Girl2 noticed the scale on the map and asked what it was. So we busted out rulers and measured how wide certain states are. Then we measured the distance between different states and translated that into miles. We looked at the map and talked about the Pacific and Atlantic oceans. Girl2 studied Mississippi which she adores even though she's never been there. When I asked her why she likes it, she said, "Because it's pink on the map and because it has lots of s's and i's. I like those letters."

Very neat and took almost no effort on my part. That's a good thing with a new baby in the house.

Oh and Girl1 was moved into a different class in Hebrew school a few weeks ago. She's in the group doing lessons 2 years above where they currently are. This is the child who doesn't read English as well as her sister, so I'm floored to hear her read Hebrew. Some of her homework simply involves reading the word to an audience and she has read every single word correctly ever since she was put in that class. I've mentioned before how I feel about them learning to read Hebrew, so my daughter has made me very proud.

The few. The proud. The Jewish. The chocolate.

My kids don't eat chocolate. For the longest time, they never even tasted chocolate. The girls are wonderful about it. The staff at Sunday school likes to give out chocolate for snacks or rewards, but the big kids always tell their teachers they can't have chocolate and they help find a healthier alternative. I've been so proud of how they handle it.

As the kids have got older, we relented and agreed they could have chocolate for two occasions, Chanukah (because the gelt was overwhelming. There was no way to avoid it) and then we added Purim (because, well, I really like Purim).

Well, now we're about to add one more holiday to the mix. Next week, there's a chocolate seder at shul. Last year, we just skipped Sunday school that day. This year, though, the whole family is invited to stay. Family events are near and dear to my heart. So we'll all be going and yes, the children will get to consume chocolate.

And so, our children are thrilled to be Jewish because if not, they'd never get chocolate. :-)

The wee one took pity on me and decided enough was enough. No more torture for the mama. Instead, WE HAVE A BABY.

She (yes SHE) was born last week. It's a girl--a gorgeous chubby little girl with wisps of hair and bright blue eyes.

She was born at home. No cutting me open this time. My body did it on its own. I pushed her out myself (with the midwife's help) and then reached down and grabbed her to pull her up to my chest. That was something I desperately wanted--to have my baby on my chest. Every other time, my babies were whisked away from me either in a rush to the NICU or just to another room so I could be put back together. I have never even held my children in their first hours. In that time, I was always lying flat on a table while doctors sewed or stapled me back together. This time, I wanted to know what it was like to have the baby immediately come from inside me and rest on my chest from the outside. I got just that and it was amazing.

Dh cut the cord. That's something he has never done before and something I always hoped he would. This time, he did.

There were many recitations of the Shehecheyanu. I said it over and over again. I can't tell you how many times I said, "Oh thank G-d." As has been the case with all my children, the first words I spoke to my daughter were the first few verses of the Sh'ma.

When it was over, dh and I went to bed--OUR bed together, the same bed where our youngest was born. I was on my side, he on his, the baby sleeping between us and we held hands and stared at her completely fixated and in love (with her, with each other, with life).

Our baby is here. She is healthy. She had the best possible entrance into the world. She helped fullfill so many dreams and hopes.

In all my life, I have never felt so powerful. I have never felt so in awe. I have never felt so thankful. I have never felt so close to G-d.