In my last post, I shared an update about the foster care placement we were approached about. I mentioned it here when I did because after a month of being involved in this situation, the placement seemed highly likely and I wanted to share about the process we were going through. It was a question of ‘when’ more than ‘if’.

Today the social worker called to update me that they’re in a situation they’ve never been in before: they’re unable so late in the school year to find any school within an hour’s travel time from our home able to accept him, even with legal pressure brought to bear on the schools. (After telling me he can’t travel, they went back to looking at schools further away.) While it seems obvious that the easiest and best thing would be to leave him in school where he is, which is less than an hour away, there’s a funding issue that precludes that possibility.

Since they can’t find a school until the coming school year, they’ve cancelled the home visit that was supposed to take place a couple of days from now. Instead, they are going back to court to overturn the injunction that the child needed to be removed from this foster home, and request he be allowed to stay there. If that fails, they are talking about beginning a country-wide search to find a different foster home (close enough to a suitable school, presumably), since their search in the northern part of the country only found us.

To my mind, this is all upside down and doesn’t put the child and what is good for him at the center at all. It doesn’t seem efficient, logical, economical or prudent. But my opinions have no bearing on anything.

What this means is that now, the placement with our family is being placed very far on the back burner and as far as I’m concerned, it’s off the table. While I continue to be in touch with our social worker discussing potential solutions, there’s too much that can change between now and September for me to assume it will happen.

My take on this is, if something is supposed to happen, Hashem will make it happen. And if it’s not meant to happen, it doesn’t matter how much it looks like it should happen – it’s not going to happen.

I learned this lesson very clearly when we were involved with Baby M, when it seemed obvious to everyone involved we were the perfect family for her. Then that didn’t happen. When we got the call about ds6, it seemed highly unlikely it could work out; time and time again, rules were bent and changes to official procedure that had never been made were made to faciliate his joining our family.

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There were some very nice comments to my last post about me being a very generous person, and I want to respond with a bit of perspective.

A few months ago, I commented to my kids that I’m not a generous person. My children didn’t agree with me, and thought I was being overly critical of myself. What I meant, and explained to them, is that there are areas that I’m more easily able to give, and there are ways that are difficult for me. I’m very generous in some ways. And in others I’m not.

Some people can have people in and out of their houses all the time. I can’t. Some people have no expectations of guests, and willingly host regardless of if they like the person. I won’t. Some people don’t care if people show appreciation for what they do. I do. Some people generously share all of their possessions and time with others. I don’t. I could go on an on with examples.

I have a soft spot for children whose homes aren’t nurturing places. Part of the motivation for my work as a parenting educator comes from that. It hasn’t found expression in mentoring troubled teens or starting a halfway house, but mostly by trying to make my home a positive place where I hope our children feel loved, and helping others to do the same.

When I was asked about this foster placement, I was quick to say no.
My two youngest sons are moving out of the very intensive stage of supervision that I’ve been at for a very long time. After almost thirty years of being there for my children around the clock, I’m now able to enjoy some quiet, kid-free time in the mornings, time I can use as I want. That’s very precious to me.

The idea of adding another child who needs constant supervision really didn’t appeal to me. I didn’t have readiness to give up that long awaited quiet and space in my life. I certainly had no interest in becoming more involved with social services.

Having made it clear I wasn’t interested, I began to think about it without any outside expectation or pressure. I thought very much about what would be necessary to parent this child, what it would require of me physically and emotionally.

Here’s a very important detail that I haven’t shared. I mentioned he has a sibling for whom a possible placement was found in Yavneel and that’s how we were originally contacted, as a potential home in the same area. The sibling is actually a twin. It deeply, deeply pained me to think of two siblings who had so much taken away from them, now being separated from one another.

Though the social worker didn’t ask us to consider taking them both – they don’t expect to find any family willing to do that – the question I asked myself was if we could bring them both into our home. Though you might think that would have been so overwhelming that it would make it even less likely a possibility, somehow the sense of mission it created in me was significant enough for me to be willing to give up my long awaited quiet.

When I looked at what would be involved, I could see that our lives had prepared my husband and I for this. That’s not to say it wouldn’t be very challenging. We were both very realistic about this. But we felt it was something that we were being called to do. So the placement that we have actually been discussing has been for both of the children, though I’ve referred in my writing here to only the child we were initially asked about.

There are lots of other things we could have been asked to do that wouldn’t have felt like a fit for our strengths, and we wouldn’t have been willing to extend ourselves to do it. As I said, there are ways I’m able to give and ways I’m not.

That’s the back story about what motivates me and activated my generosity in this situation.

Avivah

The hosting of the Shabbos sheva brachos has ended and it went so beautifully. There was a lot of uncertainty for an extended period about where we would have the meals. I made a point to trust it would all work out rather than get anxious, and thankfully it did – it wasn’t until Tuesday evening that we found the venue that we would be using for Friday/Saturday. It was exactly what I wanted. Since it was recently renovated and wasn’t suitable for our needs prior to the renovation, no one had thought of it as an option when I was asking around.

We hosted our mothers, all of our married children and our newest son-in-law’s parents, siblings and their families. Being two large families with a lot of young families, it was a lot of people to host for sleeping and meals, but we were so happy to have everyone. It was a beautiful Shabbos with two families who were able to genuinely enjoy getting to know one another.

I self-catered three meals for approximately 45 people at each meal (my oldest daughter prepared all the desserts). As much as I very much wanted to, I wasn’t able to find people to hire to do the setting up and serving, so our children stepped in for that. They were great. But it was a lot of work that I would have preferred we didn’t have to do.

I felt good about having all the sleeping arrangements taken care of, having plenty of food well organized, and being calm and present for all the different relationships in the midst of such a busy time of doing. There were changes and disappointments and things that didn’t go as planned, and I stayed relaxed and rolled with the punches. I was extending myself for a lot of people and glad to be able to do it, and didn’t feel pressured or stressed.

It was on Saturday night that I got some feedback that was unfair and judgmental. It was certainly unwelcome and inappropriate at that moment in time, after an extended period of so much giving.

When I finally was able to get to bed, I was deeply exhausted. After a few hours of sleep, I woke up to do some journaling, which I haven’t done for some time. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Pages. About all the things I did, and how well I did them and how good I felt about it.

I wrote about the critical comments and how unkind and unjustified it felt. Usually I try to think about things from the other person’s perspective and understand them, but in my journal I allowed myself to have my own feelings of hurt and anger about it.

What came out for me of all this writing, was the very clear realization that it’s just not possible to make everyone happy all the time, no matter how hard I try and no matter how well everything goes. Everyone isn’t going to appreciate my efforts, appreciate me, and think I’m a good enough person. Everyone isn’t going to feel that I give them what they need.

The larger our family grows, the more the expectations of me grow. There are more and more people who come into the family, through marriage or birth, with their own ideas of who and how I should be. I’m no longer ‘just’ a wife, mother and daughter, but a mother-in-law and grandmother. Those who married in to our family grew up in a different family environment with different ideas of what my role in their lives should look like. Even with our biological children, there are different levels of satisfaction with how I parent. Everyone has expectations of how I should be, what I should do, what I should give (in terms of energy, time and physical resources). And I can’t adequately meet some of those expectations.

Obviously, making everyone happy or wanting to be appreciated by everyone for your efforts can’t be the goal, because it’s unobtainable.

I mentioned to a mother with several adult married children a few weeks ago that a married child/spouse was disgruntled with something I hadn’t done in the way they wanted, and she looked at me without saying anything for a long moment. I told her, “Don’t tell me you’ve never experienced this!” She responded, “That’s how it always is; I take it as the norm.”

There’s so much written about the challenges of growing children and busy households, but much less shared about the challenges and realities of this stage of life. After decades of parenting and homemaking, rather than slowing down and taking it easy, a mother is expected to up the bar and do more and more and more, for more and more people. She is expected to be calm, organized, giving, nurturing and patient, and magically know how to meet each person’s needs in the way they prefer.

I went directly from this demanding wedding period into Purim and organizing all of the necessary activities, and will soon begin Pesach preparations. We’ll be having my mom and three married children staying with us; my daughter will host another of our married children for sleeping. All five families will be with us for the seder and four families for the ensuing meals for as long as each chooses to stay.

I love having everyone together, seeing the grandchildren playing together and all the adults spending time together gives me much nachas. I have non-ending gratitude for all of the wonderful people who have joined our family and each adds so much.

Does that sound warm and fuzzy and oh, so beautiful? All the amazing family togetherness, with everyone getting along?

It’s very special and I never take it for granted.

And it’s a huge amount of work.

I’m now taking some quiet time for myself to regroup. I’m assessing how much I can give and how much I want to give, regardless of what others want of me. There are things I’ve willingly stretched myself to do, and after the minimal or nonexistent recognition of those efforts, am choosing to stop stretching rather than become resentful. These adjustments aren’t likely to be welcomed by those who are used to being on the receiving end but they need to be made.

It’s a good thing to be concerned about the comfort and happiness of others. But it’s not a good thing to do so much that you compromise yourself and your own happiness. There’s no one at fault if you’re overextended and unappreciated. You’re the one who needs to create boundaries that protect yourself, you’re the one who has to take care of yourself, and by doing that, you teach others how to treat you.

Avivah

One day after dropping off my sixteen year old son at the bus stop, I decided to stop in at a supermarket on the way home.

I quickly gathered my items and went to check out, but when I saw the sour face of the cashier, I looked to see what other cashiers were available and considered moving to a different line. She grumbled aloud when I and another woman came to her lane, ‘Why does everyone have to come to my lane?’ (There was only one other lane open, other than the express lane, so it’s not like there were a lot of options!)

She looked in my cart while checking out someone ahead of me, and irritatedly told me to move to the lane for people with up to ten items (I had more than double that).

She huffed and sighed and complained, and I thought to myself, ‘There’s no one who needs a smile as much as someone who has none left to give’, and decided to stay in her lane.

While I was waiting my turn, someone with just a few items asked to go ahead of me and I told her it was fine. The cashier told her – grumpily, of course – to go to another lane that would be shorter (it wouldn’t have been). The woman said to me in an undertone, “Why is she upset what lane I go to, what difference does it make to her?” I told her not to take it personally.

The cashier roughly scanned her few items, and the woman got upset and exclaimed, “Why are you throwing my items around? Please don’t do that!” She was already insulted at how she had been spoken to, and now this was too much for her. I thought to myself how once someone is in a certain mood, they keep acting in a way to attract negative experiences to themselves.

My turn was next, and the cashier didn’t even glance my way. As she began scanning my items, I said with a smile, “Good morning, how are you?”, and she startled. “Are you talking to me?” “Yes, I am! How are you doing today?”

“Not good, everyone is coming to my lane. Why do they have to do that?” (This was obviously a question that she wasn’t expecting an answer to.)

I told her, “Maybe it’s because you look like a nice person so they want to be in your lane.”

“Yes, that’s my problem, I’m too nice. You see how that woman just spoke to me and accused me of throwing her things around?”

It was so interesting to me to hear how differently she perceived herself and her actions, from how others were perceiving her.

Another coworker came over and she grumbled something to the new arrival. Inserting myself into their conversation, I understood that her shoulder had been bothering her for a while. I asked about it, and she said it’s been hurting for months, she’s in pain all day at work scanning items, and that she can’t get an appointment for three months at the health clinic for an orthopedist.

She continued venting how none of the other workers at the store will do anything, they’re all sitting around doing nothing while she’s working away all by herself.

Her coworker told her to take a pain pill or shot, and she said she didn’t want to, that it didn’t help. I agreed that it’s good to take care of the root of the problem rather than cover it up, and suggested an osteopath that I have used for a few of my family members who is reasonably priced and not far from there.

She told me she doesn’t believe in all this stuff, and asked me what he does. We spoke a few minutes more as I shared my experiences, and encouraged her to call to explain her situation and see if he could help her. Making a call doesn’t cost anything.

We ended our conversation with me giving her the number and warmly wishing her a complete recovery. I had so much compassion as I walked away with my groceries, and was glad that I was able to ignore my first thought to stay away from her lane and stuck around long enough to see the person underneath.

Avivah

Today my husband got a call from someone who owns a couple of horses. He and my husband went horseback riding a while ago, and at that time the guy mentioned that his horses don’t get enough exercise.

My husband suggested that our boys might be able to help out some time with the horses. Quite a lot of time went by, and finally today the owner reached out to find out if they were available. They were.

When they got back, I asked what they did. The horses have gotten wild from lack of regular riding and need to be retrained. So the boys can’t ride them right away. They spent their time today standing in the middle of the pen, holding the rope the horse was tied to and having the horse walk in a circle around them. The idea is to teach the horses to go when told to go, and to stop when told to stop. The horses have to learn they can’t do whatever they want, but to do what they’re told. It’s been over a year since the horses have done this, and though they were trained in the past, now need to be reminded of what is expected and then practice those behaviors.

Since these horse aren’t learning these behaviors for the first time, they should be able to progress fairly quickly from one stage to the next. Next time the boys will ride them inside the pen, and then progress from there until they are riding the horses freely.

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You know what’s coming, right? I can’t help but see examples of the parenting process everywhere I look!

When a child isn’t used to having clear expectations and boundaries, he’s going to get wild and misbehave. He’ll be really unpleasant to be around. This behavior isn’t a reflection of the character of a child, but a reflection of the lack of regular ‘training’. I feel very strongly that it’s crucial that children are taught to be respectful. Letting kids do what they want and not taking the time to actively guide them generally comes from a place of not knowing what to do, and for many parents, believing that it’s enough to love them.

Yes, love is the critical component, but we show our love with our actions. True love means actively giving children clear boundaries and teaching them to be responsible and respectful human beings. While some kids figure it out on their own in spite of their upbringing, it doesn’t generally happen by itself.

To begin to teach a child who is out of control about boundaries, you can’t begin with major expectations and demands and expect that you’re going to whip them into shape and have them ready to jump when you speak. You have to walk before you can ride. 🙂

It would have been asking for trouble for my son to hop on top of the horse and try to ride him. The horse wouldn’t have been ready to listen to him. Your child has to be used to listening to you with small things before you can expect him to be responsive to you with big things.

What do you do when a child is out of control, wild and won’t listen?

You begin with a teaching process as to what is expected and what is accepted, while simultaneously building the relationship with positive interactions. You start with small interactions as you keep them ‘on a short rope’, keeping them close to you and immediately redirecting them if they get off track. You give them a chance to be successful with the small things, and as they develop self-discipline and respect for what you tell them, you
gradually lengthen the rope while continuing to build the relationship with positive interactions.

When your child is clear about boundaries and you have a relationship of trust with one another, you can give them a lot of independence. I give my children a lot of space. You don’t need to micromanage their activities, though periodic redirection as needed is appropriate. But just as it would have been dangerous for my sons to get on those horses today when they were untrained and resistant to authority, it’s asking for problems to give a child independence before they’ve developed the ability to manage themselves and be responsive to the guidance of their parents.

Avivah

Thirty years ago, my husband and I dated and then got engaged while we were both studying in Israel. Afterwards we flew back to the US to meet each other’s parents.

It was erev Pesach when he picked me up to take me to meet his parents. I was going to be spending the seder and the subsequent meals of the first two days of the holiday with them. It was a rainy day, and he admits he was a little distracted and didn’t notice the exit we were meant to take until it was almost too late; he exited the highway too quickly, the car spun out of control on the slick road and we crashed into the side of the road. It was at the service station we had been towed to that I first met my father-in-law, when he came to pick us up.

He was kind and gracious, notable since it was his car my husband had been driving, and it was a few hours before Pesach began, a time that is generally very busy. This gentle, kind quality is something that has been consistent throughout the years.

At the beginning of this week my husband got a call that his father was suddenly given a very short time to live, and to get there as soon as possible. He was able to get a flight that night, and was there for three days, waiting for what we all knew was inevitable. He passed this morning.

My husband was the only one of my immediate family to be present at the funeral in person, but the rest of us were present via webcast for the funeral services. It was a gift to be able to participate in that way, to hear what was shared about my father-in-law. All of what was said was consistent with my own experience.

Afterward I spoke with my oldest son, and we talked about how a person’s life is summed up in just a few minutes. What are you remembered for when you’re no longer here? It really comes down to character and relationships. I would hazard a guess that even someone who was professionally very successful would not have this directly referenced as his greatest legacy unless he had no relationships that were of significance.

It’s not comfortable to think about what people will say about you at your funeral (at least for me it’s not), but I think it’s worth asking one’s self what you want them to say.

I’ve been thinking lately about acts of kindness. A couple of weeks ago, the weekly Torah portion included the concept of loving another person as yourself. We shared several stories at our Shabbos table of how people extended themselves for others, and I felt very aware that I have plenty of room to grow in this area.

Also in the last couple of weeks, the indoor mask mandates in Israel have been dropped, and I feel differently when I’m out and about. Warmer, more open, more friendly, more kind. More like the person I used to be. That means that my normative behavior has become more closed and self-focused in the last couple of years when I’m in public.

My newest daughter-in-law has an aunt and uncle in Baltimore (where my in-laws live) who during this week have been a beautiful model of how to reach out to others. They have visited the hospital daily, brought loads of food, sung and prayed with my father-in-law, picked up my husband from the airport, driven for hours to the burial in New Jersey – hardly knowing my in-laws or us. That kind of response comes from people who are so used to doing acts of service for others that they do it as naturally as breathing.

I think that when one is more open-hearted, one naturally notices others and wants to be of assistance. It’s first and foremost a way of thinking, that leads to a way of acting. I feel like a person who has been sleeping and has to shake off the lethargy, and consciously remind myself to do the kind of things I used to do on a regular basis.

While I don’t yet have an answer about what I want people to say about me after I’m gone, I’m clear that I don’t like the self-oriented focus that has slipped in. While in large part this has happened because I’ve perceived others as closing themselves in and not desiring contact with others, with this new awareness, I’m starting to make some very small shifts in the direction I’d prefer to go.

Avivah