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Tips on Staying Home and Staying Sane

Tips on Staying Home and Staying SaneHow can you stay home with your baby and not end up in the loony bin? Below list the strategies that helped me the most. I believe they are helpful for employed mothers, and fathers too—they are ways of coping with the intense demands of parenting and balancing your needs and the needs of your family. When my oldest was born I decided to stay home with him, because I believed it to be the best thing for my him. And I set out to make it the best thing for me too. Here are some things that I did:

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Teaching Compassion to Children: Start When They Are Babies

We all want our children to be compassionate, but teaching this in our individualistic culture can be challenging. Here are my thoughts:

  1. Show compassion for your children from when they are babies. A person can only be compassionate if he has experienced compassion from others. We comfort babies when they cry, even when we don’t know the reason, and we don’t let babies cry to teach them a lesson or force them to fall asleep. Showing compassion to babies develops a capacity for compassion not only in the child but also in ourselves. By inuring ourselves to their screams we become less sensitive to the pain of others.
    As a child grows, showing compassion when it is not needed can be harmful, like picking up a child’s shoe when she says she is too tired. But usually, focusing on the emotions behind the negative feelings while emphasizing correct actions will take us in the right direction.

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Frugal Strategies for Young Families that Pay Off as Your Children Grow

Capybara Nurses Young

As my family grew from a small to a large one with six children, I developed efficient ways to save money. Some items that were small expenses with two small children became bigger as the family grew.

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Creative Cooking Using Leftovers: Chicken Casserole

Creative Cooking Using Leftovers: Chicken Casserole
chicken casserole

I am enjoying Mimi’s challenge of cooking with whatever she has in the house. As food manager of a large family I have had to learn to keep well-stocked, but when I run low I try not to run across the street. We shop at a large grocery every three weeks or so, the shuk for produce once a week, and daily at the makolet (corner store) for bread and milk . I’ve talked with my husband about buying produce once in two weeks, but he fears we don’t have enough room.

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(Mis)Adventures in International Travel: Back to NY

After Brookside Gardens we went to Max’s, a kosher deli, for lunch. My brother hoped we could sit down, but my daughter (DiI) insisted we leave for the airport. I took the food, booster seats, strollers and children onto the Metro and said goodbye to my brother and nephew.

At National the computerized Shuttle “kiosk” rejected us. We were misdirected upstairs to the regular Delta counter, with a humongous line, and at 1:10 we found the Shuttle counter. Our flight was for 1:30. At least it wasn’t cancelled.

When the computer again did not show our reservations, the agent simply began to book us in manually. I told her about the threat on our trip down, and she said we wouldn’t be charged. She printed out old-fashioned cardpaper tickets and boarding passes. The people behind us in line were plotzing, so the agent advised them to check in using the electronic kiosk. “That’s what they’re for,” she informed them helpfully.

At about 1:20 we got to the security line. The inspector looked at my brand-new boarding passes, marked them for special security, and directed us to another line. It’s that middle eastern thing again; I’m not sure how we escaped it on the way down. DiI still doesn’t understand how they knew just from looking at the boarding passes.

The woman at the front of the newest line decided not to argue with me after I explained that we had been diverted here from another line and our flight was in ten minutes. Small children are useful sometimes. They patted us down gender-appropriately and rifled through our hand luggage. When the basket on the conveyor belt began ringing an agent gave permission to answer my cellphone; we had passed. It was my brother — I think he realized that we may have cut it too close. I told him that if he didn’t hear from us again, we were on the plane.

We replaced our shoes and ran to the gate, catching the plane about 30 seconds before the doors closed. Two passengers from the check-in line boarded right behind us. We buckled into seats in the last three rows of the plane,

My four-year-old could finally eat her hotdog.

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Choosing a Therapist

A while back, I wrote a post called Dealing with Challenging Children and a followup with the equally clever title More on Challenging Children. In the second post I offered suggestions on seeking professional help for children’s problems. However, comments by frustrated parents made me realize I was in over my head.

In the meantime I got to know the humorous, sensitive and prolific Jewish blogger known as Therapy Doc and I asked her if she could post her thoughts on the subject. She graciously agreed, and here is the result: Choosing a Therapist. Her comments are directed at adults, but the same principles apply.

At the end she writes, “It’s like a first and second date. You really don’t have to see a person a second or third time if you know, deep down, that it’s not a good fit. Therapy is a good place to work on NOT being co-dependent. It’s a good place to put yourself and your family first.”

Choosing a therapist for children is twice as hard because both the parents and the child need to click with the the therapist. And a bad match is more likely to cause damage.

Therapy Doc will be happy to answer questions over at her blog.

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FLYing and landing

I discovered Flylady when I was pregnant with my fifth child. She took the best of SHE, imbued it with her own unique style and transferred it from a filebox to the internet.

Flylady immediately got rid of SHE’s biggest problem. She says that the index cards made you feel guilty, and guilt keeps you from cleaning your house. Her attitude is to “Jump in wherever you are. You are not behind.”

She divides the house into five zones, one for each week (or part thereof) in the month. In the beginning you focus on getting rid of clutter in each “zone.” Once your clutter is gone (and even if you give up on Flylady at this point, you will never accumulate so much again), you work on keeping the zone orderly and clean. Another Flylady trademark, borrowed from SHE, is to get fully dressed each morning including lace-up shoes (so you can’t take them off) and makeup (for women). The idea is that you should take your housework seriously, like a real job.

I followed Flylady’s plan faithfully for at two or three years. The height of my Flylady experience (or should I say my highest flight?) was the day I ran into a friend while dropping off a child at gan. The friend had an hour to kill so I invited her home. She couldn’t believe how neat the house was and how great I looked (I was wearing makeup) even though I had a young baby. For a long time, I didn’t want to tell her about Flylady. Partly I was embarrassed to be following this clearly insane woman from North Carolina. But the bigger reason is that it felt like cheating. It’s amazing how many hangups we can have about housework. In the end I told her, because, after all, I had cleaned my house, not Flylady.

The friend joined, and felt that Flylady was almost like a mother to her. Her own mother had never taught her homemaking.

Flylady spends little time on techniques, although if she comes across a timesaver she passes it on. It doesn’t matter how you clean, as long as you do it. You start by shining your sink every night. Theoretically, if you keep one small part of your house clean the rest will follow. Once shining your sink is second nature, you decide to keep your kitchen table cleared. At the same time she encourages you to get rid of the clutter, the guilt and the perfectionism.

Perfectionism was a big one for me. When I had cleaning help, I criticized them (in my mind) because they left gunk on the sink strainer. In the meantime, without the help my own house was full of dust and clutter.

At some point I got tired of Flylady’s exhortations and dozens of daily emails. I couldn’t manage to really stick to the routines. Also, while she has toned down the Christian aspect a lot, the longer I live here the more talk about “blessings” bothered me.

I didn’t tell my husband about Flylady and during the whole period of decluttering, shiny sinks and rotating Zones, my husband never commented. He is much better about putting things away than I am, and I’m sure that deep down he noticed and appreciated it. He just didn’t get around to expressing it.

Frugality is not a high priority for Flylady. If you follow her system you will save money because you won’t buy things you don’t need, you’ll locate what you already own and you’ll be a better planner. But she encourages you to buy nice things and to use disposables. Participation is free, but she sells a lot of stuff to support her website. I own her duster, but I’m not sure it works on the thick Israeli dust (I have an Israeli friend who is convinced that dust doesn’t exist in America); I prefer a slightly damp rag.

Another thing that caused me to let up on Flylady was becoming pregnant with #6. During the pregnancy we had a crisis involving one of our children, and (unrelated to the crisis) sold our old apartment. We had moved into our previous apartment with one child and moved out with six. The previous owner of the new apartment lost his father the day we were supposed to get the keys, we suffered from traumatic renovations that culminated in moving in with no kitchen, and we celebrated our son’s Bar Mitzvah a few weeks later. With the backdrop of my stepmother’s terminal illness (she was diagnosed the day #6 was born and died a year later), this meant that last week, 3.5 years after ordering the kitchen, I finally figured out how to shine the glass on my oven doors.

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By George, I think she’s got it!

My little girl, who is turning four tonight, started speech therapy because she said “ee” instead of “oo” (see here) like a Galitzianer. The therapist was able to correct it in the first session, but pointed out that my daughter also failed to distinguish between a short “e” and “a”; “bad” and “bed” both came out “bad.” We hadn’t noticed that she had a bit of a cockney accent, like Eliza in My Fair Lady. “Amy” came out as a rounded “aye-my.”

At the fourth session she was still having trouble; it’s hard to open your mouth just the right amount. My husband practiced singing “The Rain in Spain” with her. And a few days after that last session, she suddenly said the sounds correctly. And so my husband said, “By George, I think she’s got it!”

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School challenges and culture clashes

I’ve lived here seventeen years, but some situations still make me feel like I just stepped off the plane.

Commenter Regular Anonymous asked me to post about dealing with difficult school personnel. I am not the person to ask, because I have problems dealing even with non-difficult school personnel. It’s a combination of the language (even though I have fluent Hebrew), the culture, and the fact that I am a nice, quiet American. I can overcome the feeling of intimidation in short bursts, but then I retreat. This causes me no end of difficulty, and not just with schools.

I have a friend whose son’s teacher was picking on him. They couldn’t accuse the teacher because that would make the situation worse. So they asked an Israeli what to do (you’ve noticed that native Israelis are experts at getting things to happen in schools). He told them to tell the teacher the following: “We are concerned about our son. He is convinced that you are picking on him, but we are sure that can’t possibly be true.” It worked like a charm.

If you don’t have anyone to advise you, or the problem is complex, consider hiring someone to serve as your advocate and mediate between you and the school. There are social workers and psychologists who will work with the school to solve a child’s problem. Sometimes switching schools is the best solution, especially in a private school that may not have interest in, or resources for, expending extra effort.

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In which I quit the 8 game before starting

I received the first set of eight tasks, which consisted of questions to answer and return. They asked for more personal information than I felt comfortable sharing with someone I don’t know. (Odd thing for a blogger to say, right?) Withholding information does not seem right, either, in the context of this game.

So I guess I am not ready to play the 8 Game.

And I will have to find other things to blog about.

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