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Archive for July, 2008

Jet lag and secondary jet lag

I handle jet lag well upon arrival in the US. We function during the day, despite waking up at 3 am for several days. By the second morning the kids already woke at 7:30. The return is different. Typically we are all awake at night the first week, then I suffer for an additional week. It’s not just the jetlag; it’s having to jump back into the summer “routine.” I find myself not remembering things that happened during that first week at home. And my husband complains about “secondary jet lag” from everyone else’s night-wakings.

We arrived yesterday afternoon. My 7yo then slept all night, getting up in time for my husband to take him to camp. Go figure. My 4yo slept for a while then lay quietly with her head on my lap during the wee hours, and then slept again from 4am to 1:00 PM. I slept only from 6:30 to 10:30 am.

I am determined to beat the jet lag this time. I have to order school books, prepare sheva brachot, and plan a vacation, while keeping the house running with everyone home all day. I read that when fatigue hits, one should drink coffee and take a nap until the caffeine kicks in. I plan to try this approach, but am open to other suggestions.

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Fasting on Tisha B’Av for Pregnant and Breastfeeding Women

The 9th of the Jewish month of Av, known as Tisha B’Av, commemorates the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. On this most mournful day of the year, Jews are required to fast from sunset until nightfall the following day (August 9-10, 2008).

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Adventures in International Travel — Packing Light

Robin, this is for you. In my previous post I mentioned having brought one suitcase for our two-week trip to New York. It weighed 21 kg (about 45 lbs) and contained everything for the four of us, in addition to our hand luggage (also as light as possible).

I knew I would be staying at my sister’s and brother’s homes. They have washing machines, so pajamas, 3-4 days worth of lightweight clothes, and Shabbat outfits (two each), sufficed. I added bathing suits and swim floats, and a duffel bag for the return trip. I didn’t shlep toothpaste or shampoo, umbrellas or jackets. My daughter and I each took one additional pair of shoes; the younger children took none. In an emergency, we could easily buy something. And I didn’t even end up wearing everything. Two booster seats and a stroller were a royal pain but didn’t count in the weight.

Another reason to pack light is to save room for the return. Besides books for the children and the book club, the seats and the stroller, I’m taking a guitar for my son and an air mattress–we hope to try camping again.

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(Mis)Adventures in International Travel, Part I: An unexpected stop

The woman ahead of us in line for luggage inspection at Ben Gurion Airport was taking a long time. A man from a second line that fed into ours, who had arrived long after us, made his way to the front and tried to get his items through. I told him that we were next. He replied that he had paid triple for business class and was entitled to go first. I responded that El Al should be the one to decide, but let it go. The woman behind me, who had an earlier flight, confronted him in an Italian accent. Finally a supervisor noticed his aggressive behavior and came over. The only words I caught from their conversation were, “I am the ganenet and I say . . .” So much for business class privileges.

Afterward I went to check in. I saw an express check-in line with two bored ticket agents, and asked whether we could check in there. “No, this is only for passengers who printed out their boarding passes.” Well, I had the boarding passes–I was so proud of myself. They complimented me on taking only one suitcase, weighing 21 kilograms, for four people.

The plane left only half an hour late, early by El Al standards. What a difference a year makes, when it comes to travelling with small children. My 4-year-old sat quietly when she wasn’t sleeping. Last year I walked around with her much of the time.

About an hour in, there was an ominous announcement from the public address system: “If there is a doctor on the plane, please identify yourself to a crew member.” Later I saw a doctor in the aisle treating the patient. Instead of being anxious to get to New York, I found myself hoping that they would stop and take her to the hospital. A stewardess told me that they had sent her vital statistics to Israel, and had been advised to keep flying. But then we got the announcement about an unscheduled stop in Shannon, Ireland, to take the passenger to the hospital. They said she had had a heart attack.

A doctor and paramedics boarded the plane in Shannon. After interviewing the Israeli doctor and examining the patient, the doctors stood in the aisle next to me while the paramedics removed her from the plane. “This is going to be the hardest part,” the Irish doctor informed us. “These aisles are narrow. We used to remove passengers when the Concord stopped through here, where the aisles are even narrower.” He told the Israeli doctor that El Al ought to give him a first-class seat for the rest of the flight. We all chuckled. I asked the Israeli doctor his specialty; he is a heart surgeon.

Shannon is a small town, but the quiet airport with wide runways, near the Atlantic coast, is a frequent stopping point for flights with ill passengers. Patients are then brought to the hospital in nearby Limerick. Crowded Heathrow had refused to let our flight land. A crew member disembarked with the patient, who seemed alert and in good spirits. The doctor confirmed that she should be fine.

Then we waited. The doctor had said that her luggage would have to be removed from the hold for security reasons. I don’t know if it was, but by the time we took off our arrival had been delayed by over three hours. My sister had planned to meet us, but I wasn’t sure that extended to a 3am arrival time. When we landed I called her cell phone to no reply. I figured that if she didn’t come we would hang around until a normal hour. But she was there waiting for us. My experience raising a large without my extended family makes me truly appreciate my siblings. Who else would pick me up from the airport in the middle of the night?

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The "Cringe" Factor

In response to my post on the Modiin Mall story, Frumhouse described how she has handled nursing in public. Therapy Doc left the following comment:

The problem is the cringe factor, and ignoring that is ignoring anything that makes people cringe. If you know you’re making someone cringe, whaddaya do? Make ‘em suffer? Hit ‘em over the head with your ideas? Or move away. You can say that
nobody’s forcing anyone to watch, but face it, the baby’s the draw. Maybe a sign over the breast that says, Look away if this (arrow down) makes you uncomfortable?


My response to TD got too long, so I decided to post it here.

It disturbs me to see nursing associated with “hitting someone over the head” or causing suffering. Breastfeeding is a fundamentally nurturing activity. The comment implies that nursing a baby in public is some kind of political statement. While unfortunately this attitude contains a grain of truth in today’s culture, it’s beside the point.

As a new mother I was concerned about how others viewed my nursing in public. Admittedly, I never completely got over it. But the day came, on line in the grocery store, when I realized that the needs of my baby must come ahead of someone else’s possible discomfort. What about the need for an overwhelmed mother on an outing not to have to move herself, her fussy baby, her gear, and possibly a toddler?

Frankly, it *is* easier for the “cringer” to look or move away. A nursing mother isn’t a pariah and shouldn’t have to act like one.

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Links on tzniut, teenage maturity, nursing in public

Coming soon to this blog, bli neder: (Mis)adventures in International Travel.

In the meantime:

Have you ever felt untzniusdik when wearing a stunning Shabbat or Yom Tov outfit on the street? Wolfish Musings and Parsha Blog have the solution.

Follow-up (Hebrew) to the Modiin Azrieli Mall “nursing in public” fiasco. The management changed its policy and claims to be reeducating staff on the subject. I don’t know why the article mentions that the mother making the complaint was religious. Hat tip: Nursing in the Negev.

Can you spot a nursing mother in this picture?
Links on tzniut, teenage maturity, nursing in public
Lion of Zion refers to my post on the jailed teenagers, in the context of early marriage among Jews. He writes, “As an aside, I would like to know where all the Israeli/Jewish human rights advocates were while the (minor) settlerettes sat in jail.” I believe that Yitzchak Kadman, Israel’s best-known child advocate, did speak out on the subject at the time.

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What they were really thinking

This is why it pays to follow comments:

From the post about nursing in public:

Several years ago, shortly after boarding a domestic flight in the US, I began to nurse my son. I was sitting in a middle seat next to my husband (who was sitting in the aisle seat), and while I was being discreet (nothing “unusual” on display), it was pretty obvious that I was nursing.

People were still boarding, and there was one middle-aged guy who not only stared at me while he walked past, but also whispered something into the ear of his female companion, and she began to stare as well. I stared straight back, and to this day, I’m still sorry that I didn’t actually say something out loud to embarrass him.


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Sweet Shabbat in Jerusalem

Sweet Shabbat in JerusalemThese are my youngest children, upon our return from Shabbat in Jerusalem. We hoped for a bit of touring but had just enough time to get to the Kotel Friday afternoon. At night we ate at one brother-in-law and his young family. In the morning we walked from Katamon (Srugim territory) to Baka for our friends’ son’s Bar Mitzvah. After lunch, my friend invited us to her house. Since I didn’t want to walk back in the midday sun, I stayed with the younger kids while my husband and eldest son went back to sleep. Her invitation ties into a discussion I had last week about the obligations of hosts of smachot like weddings and bar mitzvahs to pay attention to their guests. My friend certainly fulfilled this one, both at shul and afterward. We talked semi-privately for several hours while the kids played with the family’s amazing assortment of games. Mazal tov to E. and family on the Bar Mitzvah–he’s a terrific kid!

The shul had a program for preschoolers. My 12-year-old son was with my youngest, but called me to take over so he could go into shul; my daughter didn’t want to stay by herself. After a while he came back and offered to take over during the drasha. After confirming that he wished to return for mussaf, I told him I would stay with her. I missed the end of shul but since I sat from barchu through the bar-mitzvah boy’s clear and confident rendition of the parsha and haftara, I can’t complain. Before going back up my son offered me some of the Hershey’s chocolate he had collected from the candy-throwing. (I still have some; don’t tell my kids.) Now that’s what I call kibud em (honoring your mother).

My husband picked us up at around 5 (he didn’t mind all the walking) and we stopped by an old friend, who sat with us in a park and walked us back to where we were staying. My 4yo napped in my husband’s arms most of the way. When we arrived I was too tired even to walk up the stairs, so I waited on a bench until we walked back to brother-in-law 2 for seudah shlishit.

Brother-in-law 1’s apartment was spacious and accommodating. His landlords live in the US and only use it for vacations. We appreciate the fact that both of the brothers are renting in such a great location and seemed happy for us to “invade” for Shabbat. And I haven’t mentioned the other old friends we met in shul and over meals.
The air was pleasant, the neighborhoods are charming, and the view of the bridge at night, as we approached the exit from Jerusalem, is breathtaking. I foced myself to remember the pleasures of winter in the Tel Aviv area. . . .

Check out Haveil Havalim #175 over here.

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Modiin mom told to nurse in the changing room

Yiska visited a mall in Modiin with her young baby. Here is her story:

I was at the mall this morning with my 3-week-old daughter. While modestly nursing her, a security guard approached me and told me I shouldn’t nurse in public, and that there is a changing room which I should use, “so everyone will feel more comfortable.” I nodded and said OK, and just left it at that.

An hour later, in a different spot, the same thing happened. This time it was one of the cleaning men. I told him I was perfectly comfortable where I was.
It seems to me they were told by the management to ask women not to nurse in public.

It’s pretty ridiculous. It’s fine for women to walk around half naked, but feeding your child modestly is unacceptable.

———

I haven’t heard from the management yet, so I’m not sure that this is the mall’s policy, it just sounded like it.

In January I heard a lecture on breastfeeding rights in Israel, by a lawyer who had researched the subject. She said that unlike in most US states, no Israeli law protects breastfeeding mothers. Assuming the mall is privately owned, the management is within its rights to ask a mother to leave the premises.

The lawyer stressed that in order to be effective, laws should not relate to issues of obscenity or sex discrimination. In Ohio, a breastfeeding mother sued Wal-Mart for sex discrimination and lost. The judge ruled that there was no sex discrimination because if a man were breastfeeding, he would also be asked to leave:

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Never mind, then

First some links: Check out Haveil Havalim 171, Haveil Havalim 172, and KCC 31.

A large day camp also attended the zoo today. A camper, who appeared to be about seven, began throwing water bottles into the bird lake. Another camper pointed this out to the counselor. “Wait!” she called. “Is that my bottle?,” and proceeded to examine it. “Oh, it’s not mine,” she decided, and returned it to the camper. Who promptly threw it into the water. . . .

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