Baby's first Bar Mitzvah

Today was the bar mitzvah of one of my students. He worked very hard, overcame learning disabilities and low self-esteem, and chanted his aliyah and his haftorah perfectly. Flawlessly. I am so proud of this young man.

It was Kali's first bar mitzvah. She sat quietly in synagogue during the service, only yelping once to remind mummy that it was time to eat. In the evening, she smiled and laughed in her moby wrap while mummy danced the hora, and was adorable and cute as she got passed from one set of loving hands to another.

What most pleased me, though, is that this bar mitzvah was a lot less Bar and a lot more Mitzvah. Have any of you been to a bar mitzvah lately? Many of them are like weddings - gorgeous table linens, sophisticated centerpieces, huge bands or dj's who give away prizes to the most enthusiastic dancers. And let's not get started on the activities for the teens who don't want to dance. They can choose between "make your own pajama pants", a karaoke recording booth, and handwriting analysis.

But this bar mitzvah was different. The party in the evening was in a simple hall, there was a trio who played through dinner, a few short and meaningful speeches. The decor and food were simple and tasteful. Later, a couple of teens showed up to organize the kids and lead them in Israeli folk dancing. The kids loved it. Everyone loved it.

It was probably the most beautiful bar mitzvah I've been to. Mr. December and I agree that we'd like Kali's Bat mitzvah to be a lot like it.

So... where do we find her some friends who love Israeli folk dancing?

"Tired" doesn't begin to cut it.

Kali would NOT sleep last night. She was awake every hour or so. I put her in her pram next to the bed so that I could reach out and push it back and forth if I needed to. I am so naive. She screamed until she was picked up and cuddled.

Why did I coddle her, you ask?

She just had her shots on Monday afternoon, and she was running a fever and just wasn't herself. Under those circumstances I don't feel right ignoring a crying baby or making her sleep on her own.

So here I am, exhausted, with a crick in my neck and a sore shoulder from cradling her while I sleep. And the princess is bubbly, smiley, and ready to take on a new day.

If anyone needs me, I'll be on the couch.

Four months... oh my!

We had our four-month checkup today. Kali now weighs a mere 12 lb 10 oz, and is 23 inches long... up from 10 lb 9 oz and 22.25 inches two months ago. Her left eye may be slightly turned in, or it could just be the newborn cross-eyedness taking its sweet time to go away. She screamed her head off when she got her shots... poor baby. She cried most of the afternoon too, in between sleeping the drunken sleep of a baby dosed to the gills with Advil. I almost cried at one point, it was so pitiful.

But the important thing is that she's growing, she's ok, and we're so blessed.

And now I must go and do all the pesach dishes, put them away, bring the regular dishes up from the basement, and put them back in their place. Oh, and there's the pesky issue of "I have no clean underwear left".

So... bye for now. Will return later with more dull posts like this one.

I'm okay

Thanks for asking, you guys. I'm feeling better - it's just crazy over here.

Kali is sick. She's starting to get better, but she still has moments of crying for no apparent reason. We're going to the doctor to rule out an ear infection.

Mr. December is sick. He's miserable when he's sick. Nuff said.

Passover is in two days. I have done no shopping (and I hear some of the stores are already sold out) and no cleaning. Damn, I wish I wasn't such a procrastinator.

Thanks for your love and well wishes. Sorry I didn't update sooner... and I have to say, I may not update again until Monday or Tuesday. I'm still reading all of you, though.

Chag Sameach to everyone who celebrates Pesach!

Ouch.

Fibromyalgia sucks.

My legs, shoulders, and back are killing me. It's gorgeous outside and I'd love to take Kali on long rambling walks, but I hurt too much.

In other news... the brake on our stroller stopped working last week. I called the company (Jolly Jumper) and they said if I needed it done quickly I could bring it in and they'd fix the problem. They discovered that a couple of the parts were defective... so they replaced the stroller frame with a new one. Talk about excellent customer service! (if only I'd remembered that the clip on the seatbelt is a bit sticky... now I'll have to make another trip to get that fixed.)

Has it been a week already?

Haven't posted in a while... sorry.

I've been busy - stocking up on deeply discounted diapers, teaching, singing "wheels on the bus", cooking yummy things, hosting shabbat guests... busy busy week.

My body is feeling it - I'm in a full-on fibromyalgia flare right now. In between her naps today, Kali was forced to lie in bed with me and carry on a conversation (and she did!) because horizontal was the only position in which I was comfortable. Good thing she's a cheerful kid.

I have so many thoughts right now, but I can't motivate myself to post them. I will, though. I promise.

Update on foster baby

I just got off the phone with the social worker. They found a home for said baby last Wednesday... but she wanted to talk to me about joining their foster program. I asked her if there really are only 35 Jewish foster homes in Toronto. There are. Really. She said that the email about the baby generated about 100 phone inquiries, but out of those 100 people they'll maybe get three new foster homes, if they're lucky.

We've been invited to an information session in early May. Mr. December and I will go and then decide whether this is something we can commit to. I'll keep you posted.

cranky calls

My in-laws love to regale people with stories of what a "difficult" and "cranky" baby Mr. December was. Of course, no story is complete without a comparison to Mr. December's brother, who was an "easy baby".

(As an aside, may I point out that Mr. December's brother was passive as a baby and he's passive now, which may explain why he's 32 and single, in a mediocre job, with a VISA card that is payed by his father every month? In the meantime Mr. December, the demanding baby, has a great job, a home, a wife, a baby, and a published book. Passive doesn't necessarily translate well beyond babyhood. But I digress.)

Anytime Kali cries, fusses, or deviates from smiley happy-baby behaviour, my inlaws are quick to point out that a) she's a cranky baby and b) she resembles Mr. December in temperament. Do I need to tell you how much this annoys me? Perhaps not, but I should tell you why.

Kali does not cry without a reason. Boredom, exhaustion, overstimulation - those are all good reasons to cry when crying is your only mode of communication. But why bother learning the baby's cues for naptime when you can just label her "cranky", bounce her and yammer on in babytalk in an attempt to cheer her up, and talk about how her uncle was such a "good baby"? And there's certainly no reason to think that two books, twenty minutes with the gymini, five choruses of "the wheels on the bus", and some tummy time would require a lot of energy and concentration for such a small person. No, she's just "cranky". Oh, is it 9:00 at night? Kali's so cranky for crying all the time! It's not at all possible that she's tired because it's two hours past bedtime and her grandparents have only just served dessert. Duh.

Yes, much of this is about me not wanting my daughter to grow up with the label of "cranky" when she should really be aware that she is energetic, inquisitive, alert, and charismatic. But it's about more. It's about Mr. December.

A big part of me wonders how he might be different if he hadn't grown up being told that he was a difficult, antisocial, grumpy person. His parents may mean it affectionately, but those are all negative attributes.

I also wonder how different it might have been if his parents had ever stopped to consider putting him down for naps earlier, letting him have some quiet time to himself, and developing other adaptive strategies.

And I hurt for the fact that his parents saw him as difficult, like a smoke alarm that trips at the tiniest whiff of steam, instead of like a rechargable battery, which needs only to be put in its familiar dock for a while to recharge before once again powering everyone's enjoyment and lighting up the world.

I called.

I got the social worker's voicemail. I left a message, then emailed her for good measure. I didn't hear back. At this point I guess I probably won't.

I thought I'd feel relieved, but I've got that deflated feeling like someone's let me down.

Thanks for your comments. They helped.

Tell me I'm crazy. Or tell me the truth.

I got an email from my mom a couple of days ago.

It said, "Healthy six month old baby in urgent need of a Jewish foster home. Length of placement unknown." It contained contact information for a social worker at the Jewish social service agency here in town. I read it, sighed, acknowledged that I would do it if only I didn't have a three-month-old tying up my time, and forwarded it to a friend who, I thought, might want to know. I went about my life.

I can't forget about that baby. A very big part of me is itching to call the social worker and offer our home for however long the baby needs us. I understand all the arguments against it: having two babies so close in age is like having twins, which is notoriously difficult; I probably couldn't fit two rear-facing seats in my tiny car; I'd have to drop all my peripheral projects and focus on raising two babies; I'd have all the added responsibility of meeting the agency's standards, documenting any incidents (like the bruises, bumps, and scrapes every baby and toddler inevitably gets), and communicating with a social worker. In short, it would be a lot of hard work.

But raising Kali is a lot of hard work, and yet it's so worthwhile... I love it. I love being a mom. And seeing the way Kali lights up when she hears my voice, seeing how I can soothe her just with my presence, makes me ache for that little baby who, for some reason, doesn't have that kind of bond with a parent. Every baby deserves to be loved the way I love Kali. Could I love a foster child equally? Of course. Any child whom I sing to, rock to sleep, take care of when sick, bathe, change even when s/he's unforgiveably dirty and stinky, is unquestionably my child.

You might be asking why I even think this child might still be in need of a home. The email was sent out on Monday and by the time I call it will be Friday. Wouldn't someone have stepped up by now?

Perhaps... but I recently learned something that disturbed me greatly. Apparently in all of Toronto, which has a Jewish population of more than 164,000, Jewish foster homes number only...

oh, come on, guess. How many do you think?

It's only...

35.

As a Jew, I'm embarrassed. The Torah is full of admonitions to never forget the needy, the widow and the orphan. Orphan, as in a parentless child... are foster children not effectively lacking parents?

I know why the numbers are so low. We're so busy with ourselves and our lives. Toronto's Jewish community is a generous one... but it's a lot easier to be generous with your chequebook than with your time, your home, your arms, and your valuable breakable possessions. There are people who feel they can't afford it, people who don't want to have to spend $1000 to take their foster child to the bahamas with the rest of the family for March break, people who already have six kids and who can't imagine taking on a seventh, even though they eschew birth control and would manage beautifully if God graced their home with a new baby.

And what about us? We've spoken before about the need to put our money where our mouths are. We have a beautiful home with plenty of space for children. I'm a stay-at-home-mom with experience in child development and special needs. I love kids. I speak socialwork-ese. While we may see ourselves as broke after the renovations, we always have food in the fridge, gas in the car, a rented DVD in viewing progress, and a little money left over. We have a wonderfully supportive extended family.

Rabbi Hillel Said:
"If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
But if I am only for myself, what am I?
And if not now, when?"

I'm going to call tomorrow. Please comment as soon as you read this so that I can hear other people's thoughts on this... especially if you've ever fostered an infant or if you're a Jewish foster parent in Toronto. I'll read your comments before I make the call.

I will make the call tomorrow.