According to this news story, a new study shows that the more children a woman has, the lower her risk of suicide.
As with many modern “scientific studies”, the natural cynic in me wonders about the chicken-egg problem here.
My guess is that women who make a decision to have a large family, for the most part, are a self-selecting group of people less likely to be suicidal.
I also would venture to guess that most of us with a large family are too busy to have enough time to contemplate which method of suicide would work best, or how to carry it out.
Commenting on my last vacation post, Miriyummy pointed out that when we go on a family vacation I am “the facilitator of fun” much more than I am actually having it. At least most of the time.
I have found over the years that I have to find the pockets of pleasure for myself within the family vacation.
Sometimes I leave the kids with DH and a mother’s helper (and/or my parents) and I steal off for an hour. It can be window shopping, getting a pedicure or sitting with a friend, but I have to leave the family for a while and go indulge. I confess that while on this particular annual vacation the indulgence is often Ben & Jerry’s or ‘bake yourself’ frozen chocolate chip cookies; this doesn’t help my figure much.
Sometimes I have to make the family agenda what will make me happy… and of course since my mood sets the tone for better or worse, this usually does work. This can mean we go to the park instead of the ocean, or play the board game together as a family that I want to play.
Sometimes making it feel like fun for me means plunging in and deciding to have a great time doing what we are doing anyway whether it is what I would normally enjoy or not.
Mostly this means enjoying little – sometimes tiny – pockets of serenity that pop up in the midst of lots of effort. For July Fourth I sat on the neighbors’ lawn with a neon multicolored sunset over the water off in the distance, twenty different fireworks displays visible in towns miles away on the shore line, and our own private display by the family one lawn over down the beach. A wine cooler, pleasant company and the perfect summer beach night weather (the bugs weren’t so perfect.) While enjoying it I let it infuse me; making it a memory while happening.
It isn’t three days of solitude in Bermuda, but in those few minutes I was alone, in peace and serenity… and bliss.
When I am lucky I have enough little dots of vacation to connect at the end, so that in the end, I feel that I too had a enjoyable getaway.
This i s day four of our annual family vacation. After feeling like I have been running up a steep hill for the first three days, I am finally hitting my stride, reaching that “aahhh, I am on vacation” feeling.
Believe me, it won’t last for the duration. It will come and go like the tides of the bay on Cape Cod that I am gazing at as I write from an adirondack chair on our rental front lawn. I am close enough to the ocean to see the fishing pole of my neighbor out on his boat, but close enough to the house to enjoy the benefits of the wi fi, and check on lunch for the expected onslaught of hungry children.
My parents live on Cape Cod year-round, and we make one extended and difficult trek up for a glorious couple of weeks every summer. Not only do we enjoy a vacation I cannot afford, but they are here to help, visit with, and spoil us. Over the years, they have learned progressively to find a balance between family time and enough space for themselves to truly enjoy the disruption that comes with the arrival of our large family. (Translation: they don’t want us around every minute. It stresses them out beyond belief.)
The packing to get my family satisfactorily situated in a rental home for two weeks is a tremendous undertaking. Unfortunately, it is also one of the areas in which I do not seem to successfully delegate. This year I packed the majority of our suitcases before Shabbat and drove on Sunday morning. This definitely improved things.
My husband and I drove up separately. This meant I only had to travel with three kids in the car, (an amazing experience I don’t remember ever having,) but it also meant driving five and a half hours straight by myself.
When we arrived it was too early to move into the rental. I needed to pacify and settle the kids, unpack a limited number of things, and try my best to prepare for the second wave once DH arrived. I wanted to collapse, but of course the baby my two year old woke up at five am disoriented and confused.
I moved everything into the rental house the next morning with two HUGE vanful trips (one trip with items I had packed, one with items that were at my parents’ house). I unpacked and assigned bedrooms, fed kids and bought supplies. Then I kashered part of the house, assessed what else I needed from my mother’s kosher kitchen, found switches and towels, then did more moving and shopping.
All of this was done with tremendous sleep deprivation and constant – CONSTANT – complaining from my kids. I just couldn’t figure out what was going on that my kids were bickering, fighting and whining the entire time. They are on a beach vacation! There are televisions in the rooms (!). There is an ocean view out of lots of windows, and Saba and Safta give kids ice cream unlike their mean parents. I was the one doing almost all of the work. What could there possibly be to complain about?
Of course I knew in the back of my head that their moods are always dependent on mine. This is the principle of motherhood which blind-sighted me the most, and with which I have the most trouble. It is hard enough for me to remain positive instead of cranky without the added pressure that my tone is the one that sets it for the rest of the house. I hate that. I wish someone else could have that job, and infuse me with a positivity that gets me out of my funk, instead of the other way around all of the time.
So, today, I stopped chugging. I stopped packing, loading, unpacking, rushing, huffing and puffing. I watched a movie with DH last night that I had really wanted to see, which included a good cry and laugh. I sat out in an adirondack chair, enjoying the view and starting this post. (It will have taken me the whole day in spurts by the time I am done.) I will enjoy the beach and the visit of a friend.
Magically, miraculously, the complaining, whining and bickering has stopped, at least for now. The “aaaahhh” is a collective one.
My blessed pre-teen said today “is a perfect example of pure happiness.”
In the midst of the chugging, I really couldn’t remember why I do this to myself every year. In the same way that I forget the pain of the getting here AND the going home from year to year, apparently I forget the bliss of an entire family going “aaaahhhh”…..
As we plan to head back today on a school-is-out celebratory trip with friends, I wanted to write about the Zoo itself.
We LOVE this zoo. I do not know if it is just because it is a zoo, or because of familiarity with this one, or because of particular things about the Philadelphia Zoo. We have been to this one many times, and I don’t remember taking my kids to many others.
We have been to the Zooquarium in Cape Cod, but I found it disappointing.
My stepson loved the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo as a child, but alas, those memories were not made with me.
My generous parents have gifted us a zoo membership for a number of the past few years. This includes zoo rides, such as ponies, a carousel, and a hot air balloon ride. While the rides aren’t my favorite part, they make it much easier to take a mixed-age crowd such as mine. Needless to say, with a brood our size, the parking, one visit and one set of rides by six kids paid for the membership. (The rides are expensive otherwise, at $6 per ride kid for some of them. )
The pony ride.
The designated parking lots that are free if you are members make getting there much easier. The park is amenable to bringing your own food, which makes it an easier trip than most for anyone keeping kosher.
There are a nice combination of indoor and outdoor exhibits positioned in such a way that we can enjoy the zoo in the winter, when it rains, and even on a ninety degree day, such as today threatens to be. While I love to explore and see new things, the zoo is just one very typical example of how my children crave familiarity. The fact that the zoo has been seen so many times seems to make it comfortable to them, and give them a sense of mastery, not boredom.
On our last trip I wanted to make the trip more interesting for the kids, and easier on me. I went to their web site looking for some on-line activities for the kids to do when we got there. I couldn’t find any! The web site has a great section for educators, but the material there is mostly designed for in-classroom lessons in preparation for a field trip.
I did find these great scavenger hunts at other web sites:
The kids really enjoyed them, and had more focus. I have since been in touch with the Philly Zoo about this, and I was amazed that they returned my call. However, that follow up has not yet resulted in a change to the web site or any Philly Zoo scavenger hunts being emailed to me although I was told they would be. I hold out hope.
I used to want to take the kids on a lot of different adventures. I have learned to take them where they know, where they want to go, and where I already know how to easily find a bathroom.
I find most museums to be more expensive, and hard to suit to a wide variety if ages. I would love to hear your recommendations for other trips/spots.
I also welcome any suggestions on more strategies for trying something new at the zoo.
This summer the zoo is having a family “Rock and Roar” concert series, and we are planning on going back to see Yosi and The Superdads on August 17th. Is a cute, fun band that the kids just love. (Thanks for the intro, Cindy.)
I would love to see you there. Just look for the Ima with seven kids.
Today was father’s day in the US, and I was blessed to spend it this year with my Dad and my husband. This was actually stressful for me, because they are different in a lot of ways, so trying to make sure they are both happy and relaxed at the same time can sometimes be a challenge.
In their honor, I have decided that I would like to post my top ten things I appreciate about them as fathers:
My Dad:
1. Always behaves appropriately.
2. Has a generosity that seems to know no bounds, especially with his family, but with the world as well.
3. Believes on being on time, and shows it.
4. Has spent his life demonstrating that having class and having money aren’t always connected, and that the former is far more important.
5. Has opinions, but has allowed his children to make their own decisions, their own way.
6. Really works at being a role model to my children.
7. Blesses me at the Shabbos table, even though he didn’t when we were growing up, and usually cries a little when he does it.
8. Has always made other people feel welcome and feel like they matter. This inspired many of my friends growing up to call him “Dad”.
9. Has always instilled in us a belief that family, including extended family, matters.
10. Still pouts when I go home.
My husband:
1. Has changed over 8,000 poopy diapers in his lifetime (so far), and doesn’t usually let me do so when he is around.
2. Works a full day and then races into a bathing suit (in the summer) and back out of the house to get his kids an hour of swimming in at the pool.
3. He makes up songs, in his second language, for whatever small lesson the kids need to master.
4. Can be incredibly firm with rules, and yet incredibly, incredibly goofy.
5. Bathes the kids for the first couple of years by climbing into the tub in his bathing suit, so they should get a chance to swim, get used to the water — and I should get a little break.
6. Has committed to all vomit clean-up, and has followed through.
7. Lets the children do brave, hard, scary things.
8. Has worn all of his kids for the better part of their first 1-2 years of their lives. This has included working on a laptop standing up so the baby can be worn.
9. Has stayed committed, emotionally, financially, and with his time, to his son who doesn’t live in our house. Despite the obstacles, and there are many, he steadfastly gives him as much as he can.
10. Speaks to his children in Hebrew, despite growing up in NYC, so they will master the language. He has given up on stories, jokes, shared cultural references, and sometimes even suffers through bad grammar in English in order to give them this gift.
Happy Father’s Day to you both. I love and appreciate you.
I had a parenting moment this morning that still fills me with consternation. We have one child who loves animals. I mean REALLY loves animals. He wants to run a zoo (the Jerusalem one, of course), he won’t eat any meat, and will cry upon encountering any animal death from road kill to survival of the fittest, live or on video.
I have encouraged his love of animals, and I have indulged his choice to be a vegetarian. I believe strongly in encouraging his passions and beliefs, and I am glad that he has such a respect for and love of Hashem’s creation.
However…..
This morning there was an ant in our kitchen. Our current houseguest, I don’t mean the ant) a 12 year old young lady, asked me to kill it. Which I would have done happily, had I been wearing shoes. : )
At being alerted to said ant, animal-loving9 yo and his twin proceeded to try and catch it. They used a morning cereal bowl at which point their 10 yo sister declared that she would never eat breakfast out of the purple bowl ever again as long as she lives. I wonder to myself if she knows that her uncle and I used it as a water dish for his dog a few weeks back… but I digress.
They were entirely unsuccessful at the trapping of said ant. At which point DH walks into the room, unaware of all that has transpired, and simply steps on the ant so we can get back to our morning.
9 yo animal lover stomped up the stairs in complete outrage and despair. He cried in his room until I told him that if he didn’t come down for school he would miss his ride and have to walk. So he agreed to go with the ant-murderer to school, but only after much yelling about the horrors of his homicidal and cruel parents.
I told him: “It is an ant. It isn’t a creature with a large brain that understands what is going on and is feeling lots of pain. It is an ant. Get over it, and go to school.”
Well then. What a sensitive Ima, right? I mean, it isn’t like there are another five kids about to be late to school, and a career in the balance needing to be tended to that matters as much as the boy’s love for the ant, right?
Outraged 9 yo went to the car, as did most of the rest of the troops. And that is when I got it. 9 yo’s twin turned to me and said:
“I thought you said that when someone is upset it is important not to make them feel worse, Ima. Isn’t that what you just did?”
Um, yeah. Isn’t that what I just did? I actually told 9 yo twin that there are times when in the process of educating and raising our children, parents have to have different rules than their kids. Which is true. And is also a total cop-out, and I can’t believe I said to him the equivalent of “do as I say not as I do.”
At the same time, at what point is it my job to stop being sensitive to one’s feelings and teach him to get over the death of one ant and get back to a rational level of reaction to the bumps of life and go to school already!?!?!?!?
I wish I knew the answer, because they have forgotten all about it, and I am left feeling like I gave a super bad response.
Gee, I wonder where they get their overreacting from?
My husband and I try to keep our house as healthy as possible. This is true in terms of my stellar housecleaning (not!) as well as the food that is allowed in the house. We don’t buy chips or cookies for the kids. We reserve dessert for Shabbat and simchas. No sugar cereals. This includes “healthy” cereals, like Life, that actually have a lot of grams of sugar. Absolutely no candy, and no juice.
Many people address these choices with a great deal of scorn. We are “mean parents”, we are creating hoarders with food issues, and of course our children will take twice as much junk as other kids whenever we aren’t around, didn’t you know?
First of all, let me just say that my kids do have juice and dessert when they are in other places, and yes, they sometimes sneak stuff (and think that we actually don’t know), and that a few times every summer we simply have to go get ice cream because it is just too hot and Ima feels like it. So there are exceptions. They also still come out waaaaaaay ahead in terms of junk consumption, despite the sneaking. And not only do they not have food issues, they are learning the AMAZING skill of taking “just one”, and they recently declared that when allowed a “normal” sized piece of birthday cake that it was just too much icing and they couldn’t eat it.
I find it terribly amusing just how opinionated other people are about this particular issue. Most of the time when parents really feel the need to probe this issue with me, they eventually tell me it is because they are not really happy with the amount of sugar and junk their own kids eat, but they just don’t feel there is any way they could buck the system. They want to believe no one can do it, therefore our existence is problematic. I get that.
Bucking “the system” isn’t always a lot of fun. I don’t know that I would stand up to the irrational and ridiculous social pressure to load my kids’ bodies with sugar if my husband and I were not such a united front on the matter. He couldn’t care less what anyone thinks, pretty much all of the time, so this doesn’t seem to be an issue for him at all. He is even happy to be the bad cop, saying no more consistently and without any defensiveness than I could ever manage.
The “why” we do this is on the one hand simple and obvious – it’s healthy – and on the other hand a lengthy explanation.
I tell my children that our body is like the front lawn of our neshama, our soul. Now why would anyone want to fill their front lawn with garbage and junk? I also explain that we have a mitzvah to guide all of our actions by serving Hashem, and that sugar slows us down, makes us more prone to illness, and makes less room in our bodies for the food and drink that do help us serve Hashem. Which, by the way is true.
I don’t tell them that without developing a taste for all things oily, salty and sweet early on, that they are learning how to actually taste food, try a wider range of things, not become “picky eaters” and to have a ground work of healthy habits that I hope will prevent the weight struggles and food issues from which I suffer.
I do tell them that the restrictions are out of our love for them, their bodies, and our love for Hashem. We want to show we appreciate the wonderful, nourishing foods that He created, and that we don’t take our miraculous bodies for granted.
One of the hardest parts of this decision? Trying to explain to my children why other G-d fearing, well-meaning, caring good parents are happy to “litter all over the front lawn” and give their kids a green light to eat whatever they choose! I of course explain that their are different approaches, etc., but in the mind of a four year if we restrict their junk consumption because we love them, then what does that say about those other parents? What does it say about the teachers in school who tell them to go ahead and eat the candy – Ima and Abba aren’t looking.
Confronting this battle within my kids’ school is another article in and of itself. I am proud to say that on a local level, progress has been made….. very small amounts of progress over a very long amount of time. We aren’t the only ones: Soveya is an organization trying to change the thinking about food in yeshivas and the frum world in general, “one pound at a time”.
I never really thought cutting out juice was necessary. I only gave pure juice (as opposed to cocktail or sugar drinks) to the kids, and I diluted it, but juice is healthy, right? And then five years ago, just when I thought the pediatrician would tell me that our food policies were too strict even for him, he said “don’t ever kids your kids juice.”
What?
He explained that kids crave fruit sugar, and that fruit is GREAT for kids. They will get the sweetness they crave, but that the fruit itself has important fiber and vitamins that they won’t get if they have the juice. He also explained that kids who drink juice drink a LOT less water than kids who don’t. This is true from my experience. So, armed with the powerful phrase “The Dr. said”, I stopped giving the kids juice, cold -turkey, years ago.
Now I buy a LOT of fruit. People gawk in the store and give me looks that clearly show they are sure I work at the zoo. One day I am going to print up a shirt for myself that says:
[ I hope you like my first drawing. You can see why I don’t make them. I am no Allie Brosh, nor do I aspire to be. But I really do want a T-shirt that says that, if anyone is thinking ahead to my birthday. ]
…Getting back to my point, I do buy a lot of fruit, but I am spared the endless dilution of juice and the lugging of large jugs. (I lug large bags of fruit instead.)
On a last note, food policies are like religious observance; anyone to the right of one is “extreme” and anyone to the left is “too liberal”. So we are by no means considered hard-core in healthy eating circles. After all, we still have white flour, white sugar and even – gasp! – hydrogenated oils – in our home. Everyone has to find the balance that works for them. What we do works for us. I never try to suggest it would work for everyone. I am amazed when the same people who campaign on my children’s behalf for lollipops and other forms of food dye ask me with astonishment how I get my kids to eat nicely, or how I get them to sit still. If you tell me I am doing great with the cutting down sugar but am far from feeding them healthily, you may be right.
…. But at least it turns out I am sparing them lots of lead in juice. Who knew?
“You have seven kids? Wow! That’s a lot… I only see six. ….Oh? He’s your stepson… so he lives with you? …………….No? Oh, so you have six kids of your own………..”
“You have seven kids?! What’s the age range? …………………Oh, so one is your stepson. So you really have six kids, then.”
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard comments like these, or countless variations on them. Almost all of them are conversation with well meaning, kind, good people. I am certain that if they knew how hurtful and upsetting these comments are, they wouldn’t dream of saying such things.
I am an “Ima” to seven children. The first, my stepson, who I love and who yes, does not live with me, chose the name of this blog. So, yes, I am an “Ima” to seven children. My relationship with my stepson is different than my relationship with the other six of my children. My relationship with each of my children is different. I have one child who has another parent, another house, another way of doing things. It is different. Not less, not more. Different.
I could write a long post about the credentials that give me the “right” to say that I have seven children, although I did, yes, give birth to six, and I do, yes, have six children living in my house. I could regale you with tales of cleaning up vomit, wiping tushies, midnight peepee accidents, holding hands during scary stuff, scheduling and logistical gymnastics, school meetings, laundry, flexibility on every tiny detail of life, etc. I could talk about tailoring meals, trying to build character, discipline and learning from as well as teaching to this child. I could, in short, tell you the story of 11 years of parenting.
I could tell you that I would jump in front of a bus to save seven children without a moment’s thought. I could tell you that stepparenting can take more time, more energy, more patience than parenting a biological child living in your home.
I could also write about how adopted children are “counted” by strangers as our children. Children who go to boarding school are “counted”. Neither womb dwelling nor number of days living in one’s house each year constitute parenting.
There are women with children who have addiction problems (G-d forbid) that they are not in touch with, or barely see. There are women who don’t even have a speaking relationship with their children. And I seriously doubt that someone they just met would suggest to them that they need to edit or clarify the number of children they “actually” have.
But I don’t think any of that really gets to the point. The bottom line is that when I say I have seven children, I have seven children…..because if you could shrink yourself and get teeny tiny and crawl inside of my heart, you would find special little spaces that have grown in it. Spaces that weren’t there before, spaces that have caused me growth and pain and joy and limitless capacity for love.
And there are seven of those spaces.
The next time you meet a mom and she tells you the number of children she has, and she mentions that one/some of them are stepchildren, I hope you don’t qualify her numbers for her. I hope you don’t ask if they live with her. I hope you smile.
I really cannot presume to know how much this does or does not bother all other stepmoms. I also cannot, however, believe that it is just me.
I had a glorious day this week playing hooky with all of my kids.
We own a game that is no longer produced (by Mattell) called Chatter Matters.* It is a very hokey family game designed to get the family “talking”. One has to answer questions about how well they know other family members, about their own childhood memories, etc. Part of the shtick of the game is that each player gets to choose their “prize” from a list at the beginning of the game that they will get if they should happen to be the winner. The list includes things like “the dessert of your choice alone with the family member of your choice” & “movie night at the house one night, and you pick the movie.”
This game became very popular in my house over the long Pesach break, and led to many very sweet family conversations and moments. It also led to one child winning a trip to the zoo on a school day.
So, this past week I took off of work, pulled all the kids out of school (except dss), and too off for a day at the Philadephia Zoo.
I was quite excited at the prospect that on a school day it would be deserted and we would have full run of the place. Imagine my suprise when I pulled up and not only the two closest parking lots were FULL, but there were 90 buses lined up on the street parked as well. (An employee told me that was the actual number the next day.)
We managed to avoid the throngs of school children for the most part. This was one of the many aspects that made it easier to have gone to a place I already was very familiar with. We enjoyed the zoo tremendously, and we love the Philly Zoo in general. So much so, that I have decided that I am going to write a separate post altogether about the zoo itself.
I wanted to make separate, and I hope not too obvious points.
The Zoo itself was part of the reason that I was able to take six kids on an adventure by myself, and part of the reason we all managed to have fun. However, the kids were really in a great mood simply because I had taken them on a school day. I dropped my work and we just had a one-day mini vacation where it was all about them. The impact was tremendous. Maybe other people get to do this more often than we do, but with so many kids it isn’t easy, and I know in Israel Sundays aren’t time off and here they seem to get swallowed up by simchas and the insane birthday party circuit alarmingly quickly. They felt loved, and they actually said so.
I also told them that many people would consider it simply crazy to take six kids ages ten and under on an outing for the day without another adult. That it was in their hands; they could prove it can be done by listening and cooperating. That it would probably encourage me to be brave and try it again. Or, they could show me that it really is crazy, and I just won’t try it anymore. Somehow, by some miracle, they seemed to get that. I am consistently re-amazed at the efficacy of a good in-car, pre-event pep talk. By the end of five hours at the zoo with 90 degree weather there was admittedly some melt-down commencing, not entirely on the part of the children, but everyone, including ima2seven, managed to keep it together.
I did call poor husband who had to go to work instead of coming out to play hooky and ask him to have some dinner for us when we walked in.
The last comment I want to add is that (of course) they learned a ton. And (of course) not just about animals. I have a tough time believing they would have learned more had they been in school. And even if they did, I wouldn’t have been right there, eating up every minute of it.
*The link to this game from Amazon sells the game. I think it is worth it. For a better description you can visit this other link, where they are selling the same game for $110.95.
I wrote a post a while ago about my plan to work from home with a little turning-two year old at home. A friend, www.tricolon.wordpress.com, and I decided to try working in the same place (my house) while our two babies ran around and played. The original ideas was to hire a mother’s helper to watch them, split the cost and get work done while saving money. Sounds great, right? The mother’s helper seemed to be a constant sign that we must be going out any minute now, and said children got much clingier. We got rid of the mother’s helper but kept on working.
Now that the school year is starting to wind down, I think I can declare the experiment a success!!!
We have both managed to get work done, and I think more than we would have gotten done working separately. It doesn’t hurt that tricolon occasionally changes my son’s diapers when I am on a deadline and stressed. It has cost me time in preparing lunch for two instead of one, but much less than it has cost me.
The challenge has been with the talking. If we work and don’t share, work gets done. I have often cut my friend off so I can force myself back to work. But the sharing is also urging to make the at home business work and to push ourselves.
What I wanted to write about was the unexpected benefit which has seemed to me to be the very best part of the arrangement. Our sons have bonded in such a tremendous way. Just was twins develop strong love long before they are verbal simply through closeness and time, these two boys have such love for each other that they manage to express even without being able to speak.
My son has such a special place in his heart for this boy and for his mommy. And the face of her one year old lights up the whole room when he sees my son. They hug, they share and they laugh.
We wanted them to be a distraction for each other so we could work. What they have turned into is an opportunity to develop empathy, love and compassion at a very young age in a way that just doesn’t happen with “Ima”.
The socialization benefits of preschool without all of the many problems of preschool and my hugs on hand when needed. Truly the best part of the experiment.
