Ima 2 Eight

Ask most moms, and my guess is that they will agree that labor is not the hard part of having a baby.

Okay, labor is really hard. It isn’t the hardest part. That is day 3, or 4, or 5.

When you have a baby you have all sorts of drugs (natural as well as perhaps otherwise) in your system from the pain and adrenaline. You are thrilled to be done, G-d willing successful, and no longer pregnant. You have this beautiful baby!

A few days pass, and you come home from the hospital. Your milk comes in, suddenly your baby wants to eat in a serious way – and all of the time. Your hormones kick in. Your husband turns to you and says that work is done cutting him slack and it is time to go back/get serious/work more hours. Your other children decide they have had enough being big and brave and supportive and are ready for some “you need to show me you love me too” attention. All at once. And somehow you realize that your house is a disaster and a week’s worth of laundry has piled up. And this all comes down on you as day 3/4/5 of sleep deprivation makes your coping skills really, really limited.

Am I right?

So this is what this particular phase of our aliyah feels like.

The kids put on a brave, positive face. They made it through camp, and have really made tremendous efforts. But one month without furniture and a whole week home without camp in which to notice is just about enough. School starts soon and the “orientation” meetings didn’t really help, they just brought the reality of starting over in a new language to the forefront. Anxieties are at an all time high. Places of refuge and comfort at “home” are at an all time low.

My husband and I too are done allowing all of the take out food and the ‘getting by’ – we are also anxious for familiarity, routine and doing one thing – anything – that doesn’t take three times as long as it should.

The heat is at its highest and patience is at its lowest.

On day 3/4/5 after having a baby I routinely want to handle the situation by crawling under the covers, ignoring everyone and falling into a deep, blissful sleep for three or four days. I dream of someone else coming along and being the Ima for a day or two, taking care of it all — including me. None of that happens, but the phase does pass.

I find myself craving the same solution here.  And similarly, I usually manage a daily escape into sleep for about 45 minutes instead. It helps.  Now, as then, there is no one else to be the cheerleader and to say “yihiyeh b’seder” (it will all be all right) another one hundred times. There is no one else to make sure I drink enough, sleep enough, eat enough.

There is no other Ima coming along to say “I’m sorry” after every complaint, and the complaints these days are endless.  They are entitled.  This move is asking so much of them.

Everything I learn as an Ima is a tool to help me be wiser in the rest of my life – at least if I am fortunate enough to learn as I should. I know this too shall pass. The time will come when they will tell me I am exaggerating their current woes when I recall them. There is a time that the “aliyah baby” will coo and be adorable and I will forget just how miserable day 3/4/5 was. I know the day will come.

But I gather my strength and endurance to make it through until it does.

There are plenty of memorials to Maurice Sendak, z”l, on the web this week. They are mostly articles and facts you may or may not know about him and his unique body of work. No doubt he was successful, if not controversial, and he definitely was a man defined at least in part by his Jewish son-of-immigrant roots.

I only offer my personal connection.

I was an early reader. As a student in Hurlbutt (no I am not kidding) Elementary School in Weston, CT, I spent a good deal of  kindergarten off in the corner with friends like Susan Bruno and Simeon Hellerman “reading” while the rest of our class listened to records about the alphabet and what sounds they make with The Letter People inflatable 21″ dolls. I thought the dolls were horrific, but then again so was being put off to the side publicly at five years old… there was clearly no concern about social ostracization  in the educational system back in CT in 1977.

I put ‘reading’ in quotations marks because we were given headphones larger than my head that plugged into record players. We would play records that went with books and follow along, reading and memorizing each story. The number of books to choose from was significantly smaller than the number of school days when we were sent off to the corner. Along with Susan and Simeon, Rikki Tikki Tembo became one of my closest daily companions. As did Pierre who didn’t care, Really Rosie, Johnnie and the little boy who ate Chicken Soup with Rice.

When I look back upon that time now, I appreciate much more fully how fortunate we were to have access to such educational technology back then! Those ridiculous headphones and record players were most likely not available in most schools then, and we lived in the town that housed Weston Woods. This was the company to first produce books on record (and then tape) for children, and I am guessing we probably had those records before most, if not all, of the country. They created the Really Rosie movies as well as the other animated Sendak stories, including the recorded version Maurice Sendak himself reading Where the Wild Things Are.

His books such as these were formative for me, and for some reason (probably my parents’ PR) I knew he was Jewish and that it was supposed to be a source of pride. I have been so fortunate to pass along my love to my children who have learned Where The Wild Things Are in two languages, have a ‘wild rumpus’ song and dance of their own (that my husband created with my stepson) and who have thought for years that I made up that tune to Chicken Soup with Rice, not Carole King.

 So for me, the connection is a truly personal one. My status as an early reader was and remains an indication of nothing regarding my intelligence, only my lifelong deep love affair with books. A love affair spurred on early by the wonderful creations of Mr. Sendak who will be missed, but who will live on in our house and bookshelf for what I hope is many generations to come.

When my children were younger I felt like I was always playing catch-up, scrambling up the learning curve to meet their needs. Somewhere past toddlerhood I guess I started to feel competent. Surprise, surprise, each of the children followed a similar developmental pattern. Lots of things were predictable. The “terrible twos” weren’t really so terrible. It was nice.

The trouble is that while I started to gain confidence, let down my guard, and even blog about the joys of “phase II” parenting…. the older ones kept growing up, bringing with them a whole new set of complex needs and struggles – ones I didn’t get any proper training to handle.

I remember that almost two years ago I was on the phone with our Rav, second guessing (again) our family size decisions. He cautioned me that I was about to hit a “whole new level of intensity and needs” as my children entered their second decade.  As is so often true with advice, I couldn’t fully relate until it happened.

I know that “big kids, big problems” is a cliche, but I don’t know that this is always true. First, big kids let you sleep at night. Second, older children can often articulate what is going on. It’s a pleasure to receive more feedback than crying vs. not crying and I blunder through.

When I try to wrap my head around the fact that I am already dealing with boy-girl issues, I just can’t. They are just too young! Everyone around me also seems to react that they are “so young”. Then I remind myself of Jimmy M. in the 5th grade. Although oblivious to me and any of my thoughts and feelings, Jimmy caused a blowup with my father about the injustice of only being allowed to date Jewish boys.

It actually didn’t upset me too much that I was expected to date only Jews. It upset me that I was sent to public school in preppy-town, USA, with practically no Jewish population and then told I could only date Jewish boys. Perhaps this was a clever strategy on my father’s part, a means of putting off the inevitable.

But I doubt it. With hindsight, he probably made decisions about moving there when he was still in Phase I of parenting himself, and Phase II snuck up on him sooner than he had suspected as well.  I suppose he couldn’t wrap his head around having boy-girl issues when I was  in 5th grade any more than I can wrap my head around it now.  I bet he had  his first crush around that age himself.  He probably only remembered that as he stood there post-blowup thinking I was too young.

The thing is, we never really get to stop scrambling up the learning curve trying to meet their needs, do we? I am not sure that we would want to. If I ever master meeting their needs, won’t that mean that their lives have stagnated?  If they continue to grow and develop, this will mean an endless series of of new challenges, just like mine. Won’t that be a good thing?

I hope they will continue to grow, and I know that it means that I will have to as well. I also hope that they will continue to need me; seek my advice, solicit my support in the hard times, and welcome my applause in the good. My mother dropped her own life this last month and again last week to help me pack for our anticipated move. A significant evolution from fifth grade romance boundaries, it’s just a different, not lesser, call for help after all of these years.

And I know that they are glad I still call.

… I think all of this is what Hashem (God) wants me to understand of his relationship with me. He wants more than anything for us to continue to have challenges – always new, always harder – that are signs of our ongoing growth and development. Having to cry out to Hashem for help is a sign of both continued relationship and ongoing progress, just as in my relationships as both child and parent.  He really doesn’t want me to be “there yet” and to stop growing… and he really wouldn’t want me not to call.

The key difference is that Hashem doesn’t have to run up the learning curve. He, as the ultimate parent, has already arrived. As for me? I am not there yet, and since I hope for my children to keep being challenged and therefore challenging me, I am pretty sure I never will be.

Welcome to Haveil Havalim, the Jewish blog carnival!  Founded by Soccer Dad, Haveil Havalim is a weekly collection of Jewish and Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It’s hosted by different bloggers each week.  Next week’s edition will be hosted by Tripn’ Mommy at  Trip’n Up, to be included, please send your blog entry and link to  tripnmommy @ gmail . com.

I apologize for the delay in this getting up, due to technical difficulties. Of course it had to happen this week, but I am so pleased to be up and running again.

Opinions expressed in the posts linked below are those of the respective bloggers and not necessarily endorsed by me.

If you would like to join the Haveil Havalim facebook group, click here.

I wish all of you a redemptive and meaningful Passover holiday. L’Shana Habaa B’yerushalayim Habnuya! 

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I didn’t get a single submission about Yitta Halberstam’s controversial article on the shidduch crisis in The Jewish Press. So I just went ahead and am including some myself. Feel free to add on!

Pacific Jewish Center Rabbi writes How to Solve the Shidduch Crisis WITHOUT Advocating for a Bunch of Nose Jobs, and In The Pink weighs in with My Shidduch Experience and  More Beauty Reflections.

Esser Agaroth explains why he thinks we should not vote for Shmuley Boteach. I am very relieved that I don’t have to make a decision either way.

He also tell us  about The Machon Shilo Pre-Passover Conference that is taking place today, March 25th. I hope we will learn more after the fact, with a follow up post.

Batya muses in Shiloh How Would CSI, Bones, Cold Case or Harry Bosch Have Handled the John Demjanjuk-Ivan the Terrible Case? at Shiloh Musings.

Joel Katz over at Religion and State in Israel brings us his digest this week in Section 1 and Section 2, touching a lot of important material, including A.B. Yehoshua’s controversial statement.

Speaking of controversy, Michael at An Aspiring Mekubal writes about the passing of Rabbi Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg on the same day as the children in Toulous in Measure for Measure. You may not agree with what he has to say, but it is definitely food for thought.

In the light of the hate-filled tragedy in Toulous, it is nice to read Susan Esther Barnes’ A Message of Hope from Israel at TCJewfolk.

… and unfortunately in more hate-filled news, there is a March on Jerusalem expected this week on March 30th(!) “an anti-Israel publicity stunt that aims to have a million people marching on Israel’s borders from all the surrounding countries.” Please get the facts from CiFWatch, and see what you can do to help!

Dr. Eyal Levin wrote about Israel’s defensive approach in Israel Hayom, and here is Batya’s response “Is The Best Defense, Self- Defense or Offense? Is Life Like Football? in Shiloh Musings.

At Tripn’ Up we hear about how special the Neve Daniel Community is in Lean on Me…. I can’t wait to find out for myself.

And inspired ima reminds us all how our inner child relives it all through our children’s experiences in Childhood Anxiety.

RonyPony gives a comprehensive commentary on Jewish Homeschooling in response to a Yated Neeman article on the topic, that unfortunately isn’t available on line. If you think homeschooling isn’t about you, but you are interested in Jewish education in the US and its lack of affordability and future, I recommend you read on.

Me-ander asks if Passover – Spring Cleaning is a Dirty Word? … I should be doing both right now, but this is of course more fun. : )

GOOD VIBES… 

Spring is coming, Pesach is coming, redemption is coming… time for some positivity, people! I love Pesach and refuse to bring the grumpy stressed ones bring me down, but I am happy to see a a little anticipation, too.

I love Jacob Richman’s Collection of 177 (!) Passover Videos, at Good News from Israel.  I have enjoyed and shared some of them already, and not just the one my daughter is in! (More on that later.)

Visit the beautiful Spring Edition JPix Jewish Photo Bloggers’ Blog Carnival over at  Ilana Davita.

And other wonderful photos of and commentary on the Jerusalem Marathon from the Real Streets of Jerusalem.

I saved my favorite for last: Networked Blogs writes about Mama Doni’s Passover tour and video, sponsored by Streit’s Matzo. I hope you watch the video (which is highlighted in Jacob Richman’s collection too); my daughter is in it! She and Mama Doni have become fast friends. Look for the young lady with a long brunette ponytail and spygear — in a skirt. Mama Doni – I hope Michal gets a chance to perform together with you in Israel one day!

I apologize profusely if something has been omitted; please let me know and I will modify.

Happy cleaning everyone! 

I didn’t blog about Purim this year. Those of you who have read my earlier posts know that it is not my favorite holiday.

But this year is different; we are in the midst of a move. A big one. To Eretz Yisroel. I am excited about it, and looking forward to every aspect, every challenge, every hill we have to climb. (ND’ers, get it? Hill?)

That doesn’t make it easy.

Catching up on doctor’s visits has meant a slew of diagnoses and challenging follow-up for the next few months.

The children have started to manifest all of the anxiety and mixed emotion expected with any move. At the end of the day, I am taking their stuff and moving it around and putting it in boxes…. Painters have come, cleaning off their decade of marks – and permanently removing their art from the walls.

Some of their possessions were even on the front lawn for a yard sale. The tension is coming out in all sorts of interesting ways. Fever for one, hostility for another, worry for all… and migraines for me.

I gained tremendous chizuk from Trip’n Up’s recent post about grief and her interactions with her son. Her piece was a stark reminder that my children are going through a grief process and how important it is for me to manage it as such.  I know that as the Ima I set the tone. That my positive attitude is needed to carry us all. I know this deep down, and have seen it in action so many times. That doesn’t always make it easy.

Bombs raining down on our brothers and sisters over there hasn’t made it easier, either.

So Purim for me this year felt like a backdrop of  noise, partying and chaos while I quietly tried to embrace safek – doubt -and to breathe through the pain of limbo knowing this is all for the good, part of a divine plan and that Hashem will always be there, behind it all.

In Adar we celebrate the triumph over Amalek, which is related to safek, and lack of faith. Only Amalek could doubt Hashem’s hand when the Jews left Egypt and it was clear to the world who took them out. I am trying, for my children and for myself, to model an ability to live within this stage of limbo. I try so hard to empathize with the sadness that the children feel despite knowing so much better than they do just how excited we all should be.

The irony is that they do not yet comprehend that they are moving to a new home where everyone must master living with safek. Where the conversations about doing so are clearly and deeper and certainly more frequent, but the emunah that goes with it will be B”H  all around them.

I hope they can have emunah in me as I keep reassuring them that it all will be good in the end.

Please visit Jewish.mom‘s raffle in support of the Save Nachlaot’s Children Fund.

I hope to post an update to the situation soon, but in the meantime, Jewishmom.com has an update there.

Thanks for continuing to support these kids.

My friends are all excited – as it appears most of the computer users are – about Pinterest. I like it, but I am not in love. I remember seeing the growth and potential in twitter and wanting to share, but not having my contacts yet on there. I don’t feel that way about Pinterest, so I found it unsettling to read EVERYWHERE that Pinterest is a “girl thing”. Really? I am a girl? It seems to me that Pinterest is a visual thing.

And if it is a girl thing, well, so what? What does that mean? Along comes Clever Girls Collective, a network of women who blog and work in social media, with a great article on the topic. I really hope you will read it.

HOW TO STOP BEING A PINTEREST SEXIST

ESPECIALLY if you aren’t a girl.

I can’t continue to work in PR and social media without getting better acquainted, even if I don’t fall in love. Umm, it’s a work thing, you see…… If you are a pinterest user, I would love to hear why you love it and what you use it for. 

I have been glad to see an increase in media coverage of the situation in Nachlaot. I am so grateful for your responses with emails and letters and offers to help. I don’t believe it can be a coincidence that the media has started to finally cover this subject more, and the municipality of Jerusalem has increased their action.

The Forward has written about the story, including a link to my blog as well as A Mother In Israel, and several others discussing this issue.

Serious kudos to A Mother in Israel for creating and posting an excellent translation of a detailed article in Yisrael Hayom. READ IT HERE. It isn’t easy to read, harder than my post below. I just don’t understand why this isn’t in the US Jewish press. As hard as it is to read, we need to know! I can’t imagine how emotionally difficult (in addition to linguistically) it must have been to translate this.

What is so compelling about this article is not the horrific detail or personal stories… it is the statements from the police, government and attorneys. One can see how the system is just not working. I notice the glaring omission of a statement from any rabbinical leadership.  These details are what make the situation so much more dire in my opinion.

I am hearing that “It’s a Chareidi problem” from some… in comments, on other blogs, and in the press. Not all of the victims are chareidi children. But of course that isn’t the point. Of course it is a Klal Yisroel problem. I am not sure how it makes us better than any Saduccees or Pharissees to think that way. It makes me shudder.

A Mother In Israel also has an excellent  translation of a story that was covered in Jerusalemnet:  http://www.amotherinisrael.com/knesset-nachlaot-pedophile/  .

I have to blog such a big thank you to Culture Mom & Mama Doni for their giveaway of tickets to a Chanukah performance this past Sunday. It was a blast to win, and a much bigger blast to attend.

Alia was right. Mama Doni was warm and engaging and did a great job on Sunday. I knew that Mama Doni’s performance wasn’t geared towards a frum audience. To be honest, I was a little apprehensive, about religious / propriety issues, and about feeling like I would stand out in this crowd.  I was hopeful it would be okay with my little ones. When Mama Doni came right over and welcomed us before the show like old friends, and all of my apprehensions went out the window. And that was long before my three year old spun around like a dreidel,  or jumped with glee to a song about gelt.

Even though I did completely stand out in this crowd. I seem to have had quite a run lately of meeting performers and of standing out in the crowd.  But I digress.

Mama Doni choosing volunteers to boogie with her on stage.

Mama Doni knows her job, and she does it well. Preschoolers are a tough group to play for. For the record, moms, so are the parents of preschoolers!  As a Music Together teacher and occasional Library Story & Song Hour performer, I can tell you that parents often think their kids will stay engaged without their parents, who would prefer to catch a break and let someone else do the entertaining rather than having to be goofy and participate. So they talk and schmooze on the sides. That can be really challenging for those on stage trying to keep the focus of the crowd. Far more challenging than most parents realize. The next time you go to a kid’s concert and you see a grown woman acting all silly and involved down in the front it very well could be me. And now you will know why. (Ask anyone who attended Shira Kline’s performance with me last year, or Yosi’s last week; they will agree with me here.)

I give Mama Doni so much credit for not only handling this tough scenario so well but managing to engage the parents despite themselves.

Towards the end of the concert Mama Doni asked if anyone knew Maoz Tzur, and my aspiring-singer-young daughter raised her brave little hand. She went up on stage to sing it with Mama Doni, and after she got going Mama Doni handed her the mic and let her just do her thing…It takes a tremendous Diva to command the stage and keep two year olds and chatty dads interested and involved – and then in another moment be able to hand over the spotlight like that. Not only did she make my daughter’s day (week, year…), but she signed a poster for her with a personal message at the end, which was such a huge affirmation for such a young woman with such a love of singing.

I would have blogged that it was a great concert and a great day even if she hadn’t picked my daughter and given her a moment of a lifetime. I promise. The band was great, the performance was great, and all of the kids and families there left with “Chanukah Fever”.

As expected, Mama Doni and I didn’t have much time to talk about my big plans and ideas, but now that we have met (and hugged), I am certain we will. Although I think I will be cemented in her memory forever as the “mother of” the young lady singing Maoz Tzur….

Mama Doni cheering on my daughter.

I met David Cook last night. And I got to talk to him. For real.  

What a strange way to come back to a blog I haven’t written in – wait I have to check – two months.  I tried to gain some balance between my blogging and the rest of my life as a part of Elul. Clearly the pendulum just swung all the way in the other direction instead of finding a good midpoint.

My focus on family at holiday time and the transition into a regular post-holiday schedule was a good thing. If you are back checking-in despite my absence, well, thank you. I hope I am back to stay, and that this exciting weekend was just the kick I needed.

I met David Cook prior to his concert last night. For those of you who don’t know, he was the winner on American Idol in 2008.  I don’t usually watch the show. (We don’t own a TV at all anymore.) He was the clear winner from the first week, and watching him rise way above every other contestant every week wasn’t even that fun after a while. I only watched because he is a really good musician, and I wanted to hear him play and sing regardless of the rest of the competitors.  So I guess that means I like his singing a lot.

I have a background in classical music, and I would like to think that my taste in music is eclectic but all good.  His music has depth, and is quality, classic rock and roll without any unnecessary and inappropriate ridiculousness.

I don’t know if it is more celebration of being in ‘phase II‘ (i.e. I could actually make arrangements to leave the kids for a looong time), the fact that this is the year I turn 40, or whether perhaps this is the year I am destined to turn into a groupie, (even though I have already declared here that I wouldn’t!) – but my husband bought me the “VIP package”, and off I went. Sound check, vip pass, t-shirt, ‘gift’ and a chance to MEET THE BAND.

I was late. They told us the night before – the night before – that we had to be there 3 HOURS before the concert was scheduled to start. They told an ima to seven little ones this minor detail only 24 hours before. One of the many signs that this whole enterprise wasn’t designed for people like me.  I was actually quite proud of myself that I was only 20 minutes late. Until the woman at the ticket counter told me I couldn’t come in. Too late. I wasn’t there on time.

Well, I told her the truth which is that I HAVE SEVEN CHILDREN AND IT WAS A MIRACLE I GOT THERE AT ALL AND IT BETTER COUNT FOR SOMETHING AND THEY BETTER MAKE AN EXCEPTION! I asked her to pleeeeease ask in the back. Down the hall behind the closed double theater doors I hear a very good singing voice improvising a tune about how “none of this would happen if we came on time, on time…” Then a young man with a strikingly familiar beard comes out and hears my tale of woe, asks my name and presents me with my golden ticket. But, he says, “They are almost done with the sound check so you better run”. As I do, it occurs to me that this must be David’s brother (Andrew*). Turns out I failed groupie 101 because all of the other women knew “of course’ that it was Andrew. Silly me.

So I run down the aisle of the now lit theater and I am REALLY close to the David Cook himself. He looks out and sees me running down the very long aisle and sings in the middle of the sound check “welcome to the party”…………..…. so let’s just go on record that this technically means David was singing directly to me…..right?

The sound check ends about one minute later and we get in a line to meet the band. And the line is incredibly long. It wasn’t feeling so “VIP” at that moment, more like “cattle“.

We had a wait, so I got a chance to speak to the women near me. I had no idea I was such an amateur. Not only was it my first VIP pass at a David Cook concert, but my first concert! They had each been to at least 3 or 4, and paid for this VIP privilege in the past. I really was shocked. While perhaps it may seem a tad obvious to you out there, it appears that there are a lot of people in the world with a lot more free time than me. 

The women ahead of me in line (yes, it was almost exclusively women) were FAR more prepared than I; they had come up with interesting poses for their photo with the band, brought presents, etc. Wanting a conversation? Clearly I had it all wrong. The point apparently was to see how many hugs you can acquire. I simply didn’t know.

Rather than feel excited, I sort of felt sorry for the band. I am always a nervous wreck before going on stage. I wouldn’t want to have to spend that time connecting with strangers and hugging them all and pretending it was where I want to be. And David was fidgeting… he was nervous. Or anxious. At least I think so. I wouldn’t want to have had to do that before a concert. Even for all of that money.

It was finally my turn. I got to meet the band. I told them I was an Orthodox Jew and that I didn’t want to shake their hands or hug them and why; that they shouldn’t take it personally. They looked completely shocked. Apparently there aren’t a lot of women frum enough to say such a thing to a rock star and yet still come to their concert AND pay for the VIP package.

Apparently there aren’t any.

Then I met them all; I shouldn’t have done that. I only had a minute or two, and the band didn’t have any interest in anyone pretending they were interested in them. But I did get to watch David Cook try to explain to his keyboardist that I am an Orthodox Jew when he went to shake my hand!  I got an autograph, a hasty photo, and video of the meet on my camera to prove it happened. (If you want a link to the video, send me a message)… but here is the pic:

Andy, who told us we couldn’t take his picture.

I then went over to Andrew to get my “VIP gifts” and be gently told to leave until the concert started. Andrew apologized that he was ‘caught” singing about being on time. I actually feel very privileged to have gotten to hear him sing.*

The rest of the evening was actually the best part. I got to have a hasty but elegant and delicious dinner with my husband at Max & David’s restaurant, and enjoy a great David Cook concert – with great seats I didn’t use because we were down near the front and I got to stand close enough to really watch the performance.

He was really good. He sings well, and he is an artist. A clean, non-offensive, not trying-too-hard, not over-the-top artist. I truly enjoyed the music, and I also really enjoyed that my husband enjoyed being there with me, and could embrace that this makes me happy. The show was great, and worth more to me than the “VIP gifts” or the sound check. I wish I could have met David Cook after the concert instead, just so I could tell him how much I appreciated it.

Not stock photos, my photos.

Of course today, the day after, I thought of all the things I wish I had said to him. This happens to me all of the time. The things that I couldn’t think of in the rush and the crowd and the nerves. I gave Andrew my blog address. The likelihood he will read this is pretty non-existent, right, but hey, if Mayim Bialik could come and read about my meeting her at my blog and then re-post it, it sort of makes anything possible, right? So Andrew, or David, if you are out there, this is what I wish I could have said:

• I really appreciate your music. I appreciate what it is, and what it isn’t.
• I am glad that you can make serious rock music without having to stoop to depravity, it means a lot to some of us out there.
• I think your job is hard and I hope you stick at it, because you are good. I hope it isn’t always lonely and that you are enjoying the ride.
• Why did you name your song Circadian? I get the sleep theme of the album but please explain it to me more; I really want to know.
• The acoustic piece you played was amazing; the best part of the show. Please give an acoustic-only concert some time. And invite me.
• Let me know when you want to play in Israel, because I will get you the gig and an awesome tour of the country. Just tell me when.

… Okay, that’s my list. I will have it to remember should I ever happen to meet him again. Or perhaps one of you could just pass it along to him the next time you see him.

What have I learned?

Don’t be late if you have a VIP pass to a concert, because they probably won’t let you in. If you can’t get in, use the “momma to seven children” card if necessary. I learned that I have this quirky thing about me where I think of all famous people as just people. I want to meet them, but then I just want to have coffee and learn about their lives, not swoon. I learned that hitting 39 and getting into a bucket-list mentality isn’t all bad. We have to live while we can. I learned that one should go to a meet and greet after their first concert or before their second, so they don’t have to blog all of the stuff they never got a chance to say.

Most importantly, I learned that it is really important to be married to someone who gets you, and can understand the passionate Torah teacher who wants to go to a ‘meet and greet’ for a rock star and sing along to the songs in his concert. 

[*The story as I understand it is that Andrew Cook went to the American Idol auditions and his brother David came along. Andy didn’t make the cut, and the producers convinced David to audition. I find Andy’s story and his decision to manage David’s band and to go on the tour fascinating. I just don’t understand the dynamic. I wish I did. I am certain he is happy for his brother but the story reminds me of Aharon and Moshe, and I find it a curious fascination.]