Berlin - 4 months in

On Saturday we'd have been in Berlin for four months. London is starting to look like a lifetime ago, and I can't believe it's been only four months, and already four months. We have an apartment (with a garden no less) in the middle of the city, both kids are in school (well Yon had to go back to pre-school as they start school here at age 6 and not 5 like in the UK) and some days the sun is actually shining.

It was not an easy start, and looking back at it all now, I have no idea why I expected it to go differently. Moving to a new country is never easy, but something about moving to a country where you can't even claim to have basic knowledge of the language, right at the beginning of winter, with a husband who has a new job, and without knowing anyone, should have tipped me off that we are off to a rocky beginning. Well, it didn't, and no one was more surprised than me when things did not immediately fall into place. Things did fall though, straight on top of my head, and in the first two months here in Berlin nothing seemed to work.
More than that it seemed nothing will ever work properly again.
And I was too embarrassed about it to write. I had this picture in my mind of how things in Berlin are supposed to work, of how easy it is to move from one place in Europe to the next, of how much simpler it will be because we are actually citizens here, unlike in the UK where the Home Office likes to make you jump through enough hoops to make you into an Olympian athlete in bureaucracy (should most definitely be an Olympian sport).
I was wrong. So wrong.
Or maybe it's that I simply forgot how hard it is to build everything from scratch, how frustrating it is to not know anything, and how difficult it is to change everything. I guess it doesn't come as a surprise to anyone that Berlin is as different from London as it gets. It is part of why we wanted to move here - the adventure, the difference, the quiet. It's just that  there are hidden differences, the ones no one talks about, and those are the the ones that catch you by surprise. Those are the ones that makes you sit down holding your head in your hands and wonder quietly - How am I ever going to feel good here?

What people think when they hear about our country-hopping lifestyle is either "wow, you are so brave" or "wow, you are so stupid". I don't particularly think we are brave, but I didn't really like the whole "stupid" thing to be true, and yet that is exactly what it felt like in the last few months. Even now I am straggling with the words and the phrases. What might you think of me if I tell you how many tears I spilled, or how many hours of doubt I had, or how I haven't slept a full night in I don't know how long?
That is not what you are supposed to write about when you move to a new place. You are supposed to be all shiny and new, going on city-adventures, looking all rosy and positive. No one wants to hear or read about how hard it is to move to yet another "really cool" place.
After all, people have real problems.
And whining is really not a very attractive quality.
So I didn't write.
And things did not become any easier.
It just made me feel invisible, and not in the good way (there is a good way).

Baby steps. Chocolate (and pastries, and cakes - the food here is great) and a lot of "just breathe" moments. That is how I managed to survive. And here we are, four months later. Most of winter is behind us. Hidai got me (and him, and the kids) a long weekend in Copenhagen. No one has been sick for the past week. My To-Do List is just one page long (a massive accomplishment as I can now count on just one hand the number of things that are yet to be dealt with, as opposed to the 3 pages long list I had a month ago).
There might be a rainbow at the end of this tunnel after all.
So here I am, writing.
I am just not really sure what I am writing about.

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Goodbye to London

This is our last week in London.
On Friday we will say goodbye to what has been our home for the past two and a half years and get on a plane to Berlin which will be, for the foreseeable future, our new home.

Life is funny this way, if you let it, it will take you to places you never imagined you'd get to. If anyone would have told me ten or even six years ago that I will become one of those people who move around the world I would have never believed them, and yet Germany will be the fourth country we've lived in; if anyone would have told me my wandering will bring me to Berlin I would have laughed, and yet here I am, packing; if anyone would have told me I would take two kids with me on all my adventures I would have really gotten angry, and yet both my boys happily approved this move and are impatient to get to Berlin.

In the last few weeks there has been a bit of stir in the Israeli press about the fact that young Israelis choose to immigrate to Berlin. It was called "the pudding protest" because apparently pudding is cheaper in Berlin than in Israel (honestly, it is cheaper here in London as well), and apparently we Israelis follow the pudding. Well, while it is true that for Jewish and Israelis food is not just an important thing, it is the most important thing of all, people do not leave their whole life behind just to buy cheaper pudding.

And yet here we are, part of a trend. I have to say I am somewhat excited, I've never been part of a trend before. On the other hand, it is in part why I've waited with this post until our bags are (almost) packed. I was hoping it will go away and I won't have to deal with it in my post. After all we are not moving to Berlin because it's cheaper than London. First of all because everywhere in the world is cheaper than London, and second of all because I don't even love pudding.
No, we are moving to Berlin for the same reason we moved to Gibraltar and London - for the adventures.
Because adventures is such a better reason than pudding.

A few years ago I've read this story about a family who travelled around the world, stopping for a few months in each place to learn how people there live. They had three kids I think, and they chose mostly less developed countries as destinations. I remember thinking they were crazy, that they were ruining their kids' lives, that they were bad parents who'd rather realise their own dreams than raising their kids. Well, I was young and much more prone to criticism in those days, and I guess I deserve the people who look at me and think the exact same thing. These days, though I would still won't be caught dead in any place that requires a tent, I understand their choice so much better.

Because adventures aren't about having fun all day every day, they are about experiencing everything the world has to offer. And everyone knows the world likes to throw crap your way.
Adventures are about the fear of the unknown and the belief in yourself.
Adventures are about the people you meet along the way and the things you get to do that you'd never imagined you will. Hey, I got to meet David Cameron.
Adventures are about inventing yourself every time - who will I be here? What will I do? You get the chance of a clean slate and a new beginning.
Adventures are about the option to experience life from different angles, see other cultures,  understand that every place is different, that there is no right or one way to live.
It is, if you allow me some schmaltz, about building a better future for your children. It is about letting them grow up and live without seeing colour, or religion, or country of origin. Wherever we see all these differences, they just see friends.
But most of all, if you let it, living in different places teaches you all about freedom. A lot of people think the hardest part of being an expat is the fact that you don't belong anywhere anymore. You are no longer a real part of the country you left, and you will forever be a foreigner in the country you live in now. I think if you embrace this feeling what you get is an enormous amount of freedom to be who you want, to do what you want, to think what you want.
No, the hardest part of being an expat is the food. Don't look so surprised, I did say we Israelis are very attached to our food.
And they do say Berlin has great bakeries.

Now that the time to say goodbye has come, I should be able to say something about London, summaries the last two and a half years in one sentence. But I can't. Mostly because writing short sentences was never my strong suit, but also because I am just not sure it will be the right sentence. There is, after all, something to say for perspective.
For now mostly I feel that I am ready to move on, but I can say that London gave us a lot, we've had so many good things happen to us here, we've accomplished so much, but that it all came with a very high price-tag. Like everything else in London.
I am proud of us for what we've achieved, and at the same time I hate that we had to pay so dearly for it.

And then, because life is funny this way, someone shared this Elisabeth Kübler-Ross quote on Facebook that just seemed so fitting for my goodbye to London -
"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen".

So Long London, and Thanks for All the Fish!

All the photos in this post were taken by Hidai on his recent travels to Berlin, and not by me because I haven't been to Berlin. Yet.

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Freedom and hope

When I was a really young mum (and also very young) the one sentence I hated most (fine, fine, maybe not most, but it was definitely top five. I really had lots of issues then) was "enjoy every day, because time goes by so fast". Well, let me tell you the truth - it didn't. It moved, as time usually moves - in slow, agonisingly slow motion. Each hour dragging on for days, each day into months. I felt each and every moments of those early years, and I can't look back and say that enjoyment was what comes to mind as first thought. Like I said, I had issues. But when my tiny baby looked up at me and said - It's less than a month to my birthday, here is my wish-list. Do you need me to go over it with you? - I got what those well-meaning souls were talking about. My baby is nine in less than a month (and yes, I did need some explaining on the list). Two months after that my teeny tiny baby is five. And I have no idea where the time has gone.

My babies at the library

We have a long standing discussion with my parents about what the most important thing in life is, and for us it's always been time. You can't turn back the clock and you can't bring back even one minute you lost. Time, in many regards, is the one thing money can't buy. And lately it has been slipping through my fingers.

Life around here at the moment is not what you might call... Good. Actually it's rather rubbish. We are having some issues with Hidai's work, and with him being the only one actually in charge of putting money in the bank (I know it's a shocker but blogging really isn't the high paying job the rumours say it is) it has put a strain on the last couple of months. I did not react well. I like to think that people who don't know me very well think I am one of those composed and very much together people. One of those people who deal with every bump and disaster in a calm, collected and casual manner. I like to think that because in reality I am not one of those people at all. I am one of those have an anxiety attack, cry in the bathroom, and don't leave the house people. When the going get tough, and it's time for the tough to get going, I sit under a table with a box of chocolates. I know it's pathetic, and it is also why I haven't written in three weeks. I couldn't read or write or talk to anyone (I really am sorry, all the people I've ignored). I didn't bake or knit or even took photos. I wasn't on my computer other than to play Candy Crush. Things got so bad I didn't even manage to keep the laundry schedule. I couldn't tell you what was going on, because honestly I didn't think anyone would care. After all, I have already written about my anxiety attack once, and how much self-pity can anyone really stand? And if I am completely honest here, the main reason I didn't write is because I was, and still am, ashamed. I am so very very ashamed that I fell apart. I should have reacted better, I should have been stronger, I should have weathered the storm. I didn't, and still don't. But I figured after three weeks of not writing or communicating with anyone the only readers I have left are my parents, who already know all that so writing it makes no difference.

depression chocolate doesn't have to be bad chocolate

In order to write something coherent I have been sitting here for the last few hours trying to piece together the last couple of months, and all I get is a blur of Candy Crush, chocolate and tears. And it makes me angry, and even more ashamed. Because I've lost time. I've lost two months to oblivion and fear. I have lost holidays, birthdays, friends, time with the kids. I have let fear and anxiety and depression rule my life.

Hidai's birthday was shockingly bad

And I am more ashamed still, because I have no idea how to climb out of the black hole in which I find myself. I am not sure I am strong enough. And I feel small and sad and pathetic. I know it could be worse, I know that for a lot of people it is. I know the thought of the prospect of Hidai having no job for awhile shouldn't reduce me to this, and it makes me even more pathetic. So I decided to write, because no one will read anyway, and because to me it is a nightmare with one shoe dropping after the other and no breathing space, and because there are many shades of black, and this is mine.
Today is Passover Eve. Passover is one of the biggest holidays for Jewish people (and even has the movie - Prince of Egypt - to prove it). It is not one of my favourite holidays (the food isn't all that great with the whole "no flour" thing), but this year it makes me sad. It makes me sad and lonely that we are all alone, that I can't cook or bake (thanks to the fact that my hands are in a very bad shape. Because when it rains it pours), that I have lost another moment I shouldn't have.
Passover has a whole biblical story, as any serious holiday should, and obviously someone tried to kill the Jews, as in every single one of our holidays, and it is the one holiday where you really can't make the story child-friendly no matter how much you try (too many dead and abandoned kids in there). But it also has one of the most important messages, if not the most important, of all our holidays. Because Passover is all about escaping slavery. Of every type. For me, it's a slavery to my demons, to my fears and anxiety.
Passover is about freedom and hope. The two things I need more than anything right now, and the two things I just can't seem to reach.
We won't be having a proper Passover dinner this year, I could't bring myself to do that, both physically and mentally (think Christmas-meal size of dinner, than double it). But I figured baby steps are better than no steps, and bought some chocolate and wine.
So happy Passover everyone, here is to freedom and hope.
And to believing that miracles can really happen.

Picture from Here

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Coffee break

Some people say that material things don't matter, and that in the western world we accumulate too much unneeded stuff, and that people put too much emphasis on owning things and not on spiritual things. Me, on the other hand, I am a firm believer in that the more you buy the better off you are. No, not really. I am just kidding, But I do have to admit that I really like my material stuff. I get unhealthily attached to my prized possessions. Take my rolling pin for example. I have four rolling pins. My oldest, and favourite is a traditional wooden one that I've had for about 12 years and moved it 3 countries before it handle broke a few months ago. Do you think I threw it away? No, I did not. I keep it in the cupboard, with the other three rolling pins thinking I might use it without a handle. I don't, but it's still there waiting for me, and every time I need a rolling pin it breaks my heart to see it there all sad and broken.
Yes, I am weird, but that is hardly news. At least the rolling pin doesn't have a name, which I can't really say about most of our other possessions. A few weeks ago my friend Izzy wrote a post about naming things, on which I commented with an "of course we name inanimate object, doesn't everyone?" Like Roomby which we treat in a combination of a third child love and a sweatshop slave driving but is in fact our iRobot vacuum cleaning robot that we've had for the last three years (and two countries), and Cici, the last car we owned, when we were living in Gibraltar (still, after two years, I can't get used to the whole driving on the opposite, not to say wrong, side of the road here. The bus driver does it so much better than me), which was a Citroen C3 (I know, you couldn't have guessed that one) and which was the cutest most adorable car we have ever owned. It had kind of a gender crisis since Hidai and Ron refused to drive a female car, and I said something that cute can't really be a male car, but we'll ignore that for the moment. Then of course you have the iPhone which doesn't have a name but is never more then 30cm away from me at all times (yes, even in the shower), and my wonderful new Macbook which I keep patting whenever I see it, to the point of Hidai looking at me weirdly. I have no idea why. It is after all, totally normal.
But nothing is more precious to me than my Nespresso machine. Let's put it this way, if the house was on fire, the Mac and the Nespresso will be the things I will run back inside to save (kids, Hidai and iPhone come first obviously). I bought my first Nespresso machine in 2007, as a gift to myself after I lost all the weight I gained during Ron's pregnancy. My excuse was that Weight Watchers said you should buy yourself something small to congratulate yourself for the achievement. And a Nespresso machine is quite small in its dimensions. This past October, with no relation to Weight Watchers, I decided it is time to indulge again and also the machine started making weird noises instead of coffee, and I bought myself a new Nespresso Lattissima, and life has never been the same. I know that I really should try to migrate more towards drinking tea, at least for as long as we are living in the UK, that this is not a coffee-lover country but I am a coffee person completely, and the only times I drink tea is when I am ill. And even then I put three spoonfuls of sugar in it. That is why Hidai is in charge of the tea drinking in this house, and since moving here he has even discovered the adding of milk to his tea, so at least one of us is being more in line with the UK life.

So back to coffee, the last two weeks, as I have already mentioned, were not all roses and sunshine. Especially in the one night when at about two in the morning Yon decided to start throwing up and we spent the rest of the night running between the toilet and the watching machine. It was one of those night when you tell yourself - wow, I am old, I really am not up to any more babies. We don't do lack of sleep well, and now that the boys have grown, we don't do lack of sleep at all. I guess every once in a while you have to go through one of these nights that reminds you why you really don't want to go through any more of those nights. What does that has to do with coffee? No, we didm;t give Yon coffee the next day, but after having a night like this, the best gift you can get (after time to catch up on sleep and chocolate - because chocolate is always the best gift you can get) is an enormous black box filled to the brim with coffee capsules.

Carte Noire sent me exactly this box, because they had both a new range of coffee and a sixth sense that I will need a huge amount of very strong coffee if I am to get through a day like that. Carte Noire makes coffee capsules that are compatible with Nespresso machines* and they have a new range of four flavours that differ in their intensities. Now, you might be new to this blog so you don't know this, but this is a very serious blog (not really) and I usually don't do reviews around here, in fact I can count on one hand the number of reviews I've done over the past year and a half of writing this blog. But this is coffee, and therefor second only to chocolate, so I couldn't really say no, right? The best thing and the worst thing about Carte Noire is rolled into one - each capsule is wrapped individually. The bad - It is very annoying after a night of little to no sleep to try and wrestle with the wrapping. The good - the smell. I have no idea how they've done it, but once you open the wrapping you get the most deliciously intense smell of raw coffee. I am not ashamed (ok just slightly ashamed) to say that I stood in the middle of my kitchen and just sniffed the wrapping for a few good minutes before I even put the capsule in the machine. I did think at first that I was extremely lucky, or just hallucinating, but every one of the capsules, in all the flavours, had that same wonderfully intoxicating smell of coffee. The coffee itself was, well, coffee. It was strong and hot and kept me alive for the day and without harming young children, so I definitely recommend it for times of sleep crisis. Other than that, when I tried it again on a day where I was actually conscious, I found that it worked wonderfully with my Nespresso machine, and that you could really distinguish between the tastes and strengths of the difference kinds. If, like me, you have a tendency to not look which capsule you are taking from the box and just like being surprised, than you'll love the fact that all of Carte Noire capsules look the same, and if you tear all their wrapping in advance and stuff them in a single box you won't be able to distinguish between them by look. And also you will lose that fab smell. But on the other hand, you won't find yourself ripping viciously at a small wrapper with eyes that are half closed. The coffee itself was really good, and after trying all four flavours (more than once. Just to be sure you understand) I preferred the stronger tastes while Hidai liked the less strong ones, and the kids loved the big black box it came in.
I know I turned out to be a real coffee snob / weirdo in this post, but the truth is only one of those things is true. To risk becoming an even bigger weirdo, the real reason I even drink coffee is because coffee, for me, is really the excuse for cake (and sometimes a very necessary energy shot), and seeing how the last few weeks were filled with hard times, they were naturally filled with cakes, and because you have to drink coffee to not feel guilty about eating cake (it really is how my mind works) - they were filled with coffee. Mainly Carte Noire coffee, so I feel like I am a good authority to tell you this - Carte Noire coffee works fabulously with all kind of cakes.

This is a sponsored post, though all opinions, craziness and cakes are definitely my own.

**Nespresso® is a registered trademark of a third party without any link with Mondelez International group. Compatible with all Nespresso®* machines bought before July 1, 2013. After that date, compatible with most Nespresso®* machines bought. For additional information regarding compatibility, please see UK: www.CARTENOIRE.co.uk/compatibility
Want to know more about Carte Noire?
The new range of capsules will be widely available in UK supermarkets making them a convenient and affordable way for coffee connoisseurs to create an extraordinary espresso at home.

The new range of capsules features four distinct flavours and each espresso comes with its own special character.  Some are accompanied by subtle fruity notes, whereas others offer a more complex chocolaty or nutty aftertaste. What’s more, there are a range of intensities so the higher the number, the higher the intensity, providing real choice whatever the mood or occasion:

·       N°3 Élégant is an exceptional pure Arabica coffee with a smooth and subtle taste enhanced by cereal notes.

·       N°5 Délicat is a pure Arabica coffee with fruity notes and a silky texture

·       N°7 Aromatique is an aromatic pure Arabica coffee with delicate hints of cocoa

·       N°9 Intense is a rich, intense blend of pure, darkly roasted Arabica coffee

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Taking that next step

For Jewish people Tuesday is a lucky day. It is supposed to be doubly-good (I really have no better way to translate it). I wish my Tuesdays would get the memo. I had a horrible day, where things continued to overwhelm me and I was looking at all the tables in our house trying to find one I could crawl under. In an attempt to relax and take my mind off things I did laundry. How pathetic is that? Obviously it didn't help but at least everyone has clean sheets and I had the perfect hiding place - under the laundry. 

But you know what they say about finding the silver lining and all that so this is not another dark hopeless post but one about the pots of gold I found today.

The first one was all those comments I got which, together with massive amounts of chocolate (I ran out of cake) got me through the morning. 

When I wrote on Monday about my anxiety attack and how bad I was feeling these past few weeks, for the first time since I started my blog I hesitated before pressing the "Publish" button. I know it's weird coming from someone whose blog is all about the most intimate things that happens in all our lives, but somehow that post felt so much more personal and private and publishing it felt like bearing my soul. I was worried people would laugh at me or belittle my feelings or just look at my post and say "oh, grow up already. Life is tough and it's past time you learnt it". To be honest, I am not really used to having people aside from Hidai and my parents who worry about me, and I was totally unprepared for the amount of positive feedback I got, and all the people who commented and wrote and worried about me. It helped so much, so I just wanted to say a gigantic thank you to everyone.

The second was Ron. Last week was a rough week for him in school with his one-on-one talk with his teacher going from bad to worse and our understanding that it is time to take him for a formal gifted-kids-assessment (also known as an IQ test) if we want to stop being "those parents". We had a talk with his head-teacher on Thursday about letting him go even more forward, and letting him prove what his limits are and fixing the fact that he got the impression the school doesn't care about him. I know it is going to sound silly, but we worry constantly about Ron's education. To be honest the school system isn't very helpful in that and gifted kids rarely get treated like SEN kids, though they are, and they don't get ELPs or professional advisors and meetings to discuss their progress. It is so hard to find teachers who understand gifted kids, who thinks of them as needing extra help and attention, because it is so hard and so important to keep them challenged and interested and prevent them from becoming underachievers. We are very lucky that our head-teacher sees things eye-to-eye with us and she set to fix what needed to fixing. As a result Ron had what he considers the funnest day of school - he got to do some level 6 maths tests from 9:30am till 2pm and in between tests he talked to the head-teacher about his goals for the next half-term. Add to that he got to participate in a special maths course that is being given in a local secondary school, and they had some questions from the Junior Maths Challenge and he got them all correct. You have never seen such a happy boy.

The third was Yon. When Yon got diagnosed I didn't have time to think or to feel or to do anything but try to accumulate enough material to make sure we are giving him the best help we can. When your child is diagnosed with a disability you go through the process of grief, complete with all the trimmings and stages. I have no idea what stage we are at now, most days it's acceptance with a dash of denial I would guess. But the thing I found is that no matter what stage you are on, you always have that one thing that bother you most, some tiny fear or anger or sadness about something he will never be able to do. It could be that he'll never play sports, or that he could never drive, or that he might need a cane. For me, it is that he won't be able to read. I love books, always have. Books, and love of reading, were the one most important thing I wanted to give both my kids. Ron learned to read when he was two years old, not because he enjoyed reading but because he enjoyed the learning process and the patterns he discovered within. I wasn't the one who managed to convince him books that are not about football are interesting, that honour is reserved to his last year teacher to whom I will always be grateful. Since he discovered reading is fun, he has become a regular bookworm and is now stealing my Kindle every chance he gets.

But with Yon it is much more complicated. How do you teach a child with 40% vision to read? How do you teach him to enjoy a whole book when you are not sure he can read a sentence? How do you teach someone to read when the letters keep moving in front of their eyes and they need to read each letter individually? Yon didn't want to learn. He is so different from Ron, and learning through visual aids is not his thing at all. But reading requires visual learning. Add to that the fact that he doesn't like to be taught at all, or being told what to do, and you get a problem. Yon taught himself the letters and sounds from listening repeatedly to songs on YouTube, and then over the summer I convinced him "to be like Ron" and do some workbooks which were mostly doodling and made sure he was prepared for reception.

What I wasn't prepared for, was how good his reception teacher is with him, and how much he came to enjoy learning to read. Today he came home from school and was so extremely proud of himself because he got his new reading book. It was an Oxford Reading Tree level 4 book (a year 1 book) and a note saying he is the most advance reader in his class.

Sometimes there are days when you look around and you ask yourself how am I supposed to go on? How am I supposed to climb this new mountain? Then you open your eyes and see a nine years old conquer every new challenge you put in front of him and a tiny not even five years old overcome blindness without ever loosing his smile, and you see a world full of people who care, and suddenly it becomes a bit easier to take that next step.

I am linking this post with the wonderful Small Steps Amazing Achievements linky over at Ethan's Escapades because I've missed it, and the Siblings linky because of this photo of my two dudes :)

I hope you enjoyed reading the post :) I would really appreciate two minutes of your time and a vote in the writer or family categories in the BiB blog awards - Just press the photo and copy in my URL -
http://londondegani.blogspot.co.uk
Thank you very much!

  

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Just breathe

Today is the first day in more then two weeks that I feel I can write, that I actually want to write. And still I am not sure how to go about it, like somewhere along the way I've lost my words or maybe myself. In the last few weeks it has become clear that we are on the verge of change (just to clarify - not pregnant and not moving country) and it has caused what I realised last night to be a mild case of an anxiety attack. For me, anxiety doesn't wash over you in one big wave of cold sweat. It creeps up, slowly, until you feel like you are drowning, like there is no more room to breathe. I didn't even notice it at first because anxiety has become a constant part of daily life these past few years, but then I found myself sitting in my living room just looking at the clock and waiting for the bad news to reach me. In my mind I had no doubt that there are bad news coming my way, that it will happen any minute now. Though nothing really happened I could feel my heart beating faster, I could feel myself getting impatient, I could feel the certainty of my life crumbling before my eyes.

Some of it, I figured out yesterday, is because of the waiting. We are on the verge, and some of the changes will happen in the next few months, while others will need more time to develop but has been set in motion. We have been inching toward those changes for months now, and it has been slowly driving me mad. I don't do slow or waiting very well. I like retrospect and talking about things to death like the next person, but long processes are not really my thing. Waiting is even less, and our lives are going in the way of no more swift changes, no more finding a house in two weeks, no more moving a country in ten days. I have tried doing it gracefully, I have tried embracing the wait, I have tried pushing it to the back of my mind and ignoring it. None of my carefully executed strategies worked. So I did the only thing I could - I baked. I decided to make a cheesecake, because a baked cheesecake is a good lesson in patience - you have to buy the ingredients (because who amongst us really keep in the house about a kilo of Philadelphia?), then you have to prepare it and bake it for almost 2 hours, then cool it, ice it, and put in the fridge for about 7 hours. There are no shortcuts, no way to cheat the system, no way to steal a little piece straight from the oven. It turned out perfect, so maybe patience is a virtue after all.
Some of it was the distance from Denial-Land. I do miss Denial-land so much. The older I get, the more I come to understand the guy in the Matrix who just wanted to go back to not knowing. Sometimes I wish you could un-take the red pill. Most of the time we live our lives in the sense that "it won't happen to me" - I will not be in a car accident, my house won't be burgled, I won't lose my job, I won't wake up one morning and discover my son is half-blind. After enough of these things happen to you, you stop saying "it won't happen to me", you just go with "I wonder which of these will happen next". Sure, you have to get back on the horse and all that, but how can you really stop being afraid you'd fall again?
Some of it was fear. Not the good kind of fear, the one that keeps you alive and unharmed, but the crippling kind of fear that paralyses you and stops you from moving forward. It's the fear of repeating the same past mistakes, it's the fear of the future, it's the fear of everything disappearing in front of your eyes.

I hate the word anxiety, it makes it sound frivolous or silly somehow. It makes me think of fragile victorian women who needed smelling salts. Somehow the word makes it to be something that you should have overcame by yourself, something weak people or childish people or over-dramatic people suffer from.
It might be true, God knows I told myself all these things on many sleepless night, when I couldn't see how morning will ever come. For me, anxiety gets worse in the night. Somehow, deep into the wee hours of the night when the house is eerily quiet, after the fifth time I checked the house is locked and the kids are breathing, that is when I can't control it anymore, when I can't tell myself that it really will be ok, that the voices in my head are just irrational fears that have no relation to my real life.

Anxiety takes everything that is bad, or hard, or uncertain and makes it ten thousand time worse, and when life keeps putting more and more hurdles in front of you it makes it harder to be able to distinguish between real-life problems to tackle and irrational fears. In the last couple of weeks everywhere I looked something was broken and needed me to fix it, or it was stuck and needed me to wait, or it was just soul-suckingily hard. Kids were sick, DLA and forms needed to be filled, money issues reared their ugly head, Ron had trouble in school, jobs were delayed, houses around here were expensive rubbish...
I felt like I was drowning. All I could do was keep my head above water and try to breathe. But I couldn't write, or smile, or see a way out. I lost my way and my blog. All I did for two weeks was played Candy Crush, knitted animals and baked.
Last night I told Hidai all of my fears. I just sat there and told him about the noise, and the anxiety, and the deep dark fears. I let him see inside the darkness of my mind. Hidai gave me hope, my little ray of sunshine and reality. He gave me, like always, his ear and his shoulder and way more love and understanding than I deserve.
And he helped me start to find my way back.

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Food for March

I know it doesn't look like it when you look out the window, but the calendar can't be wrong. It's March. I have spent the last weekend congratulating myself on surviving another UK winter, right before Monday arrived and I went to pick my boys up from school and promptly got caught in the biggest hailstorm we had all winter on the one day we were supposed to go check out some houses for our "how does it feel to live in a proper house" research project instead of going straight home. But if you ignore this freak-storm that lasted exactly from five minutes after I left home to five minutes before I got back, as most storms tend to do, you could look around and quietly whisper - it's beginning to look a lot like spring.

Trying to get out of school

And do you know what spring brings with it, other than flowers and sunshine and smiles? Food. Spring is, without a doubt, the season to be eating. It raises two problems - the first being that I still have 3 kilos to lose because unfortunately February was less than a stellar month in all areas of life, so it will come as no surprise to learn that what I thought of as a less than ambitious target of loosing 8 kilos and exercising 4 times a week was in fact too ambitious. The other problem is that spring is what comes before summer. And summer is the season to be showing off your diet's results. Well, the solution here is easy and clear to all - we live in the UK, we can always wear a coat under the pretence that "a summer coat is so in this year". And until we move to the suburbs were people actually have dress codes (or so I hear), we can always wear whatever we want under the label of eccentric rather then just plain weird.

Truth is I planned to get right back on the diet-horse on Monday, it's just that I didn't have a set Monday in mind and so I found myself last Wednesday when it became apparent that Monday has already passed, making an apple crumble. Apple crumble is the best cake ever, because it's a guilt free cake - after all, it is mostly apples. If you just ignore the sugar, flour and butter of course. But why would we want to be so petty? But then came the text message from school - we have moved year 4's cake sell to this Friday. Please bring your cakes on Friday morning. Ha, I thought to myself, here is my chance to get out of making a cake for school. I hate doing anything just because I have to, and baking is no different, but Ron looked at me like I ran over his puppy and told me he promised the whole school I will bake them cupcakes. 

I tried explaining that I don't have time on Thursday, I tried explaining that I don't have the ingredients needed for 40 cupcakes just lying around the house, I tried blaming it on the school. We all know what happened next don't we? I got him to compromise on a cake. Now that raised another dilemma - if you bake a chocolate cake for school, are you supposed to not bake one for yourself too? After all, how will you know if it's any good? And also it was my mum's birthday on Sunday (happy birthday mum!). And the fact that we live in different countries should not mean we don't deserve to enjoy some birthday cake. Yes, I baked two chocolate cakes, with chocolate icing, and sprinkles on top. 

It was the best decision ever, as I don't even dare trying to buy anything in the school bake sale with all the people fighting there for every cake, and Yon, who lives for chocolate cake, was devastated when he discovered that the cake is going to school and not all intended for him to eat.

Apparently, and not that I'm bragging or anything, my cake was the first one sold out, and it went for the highest price per slice :)

Cakes on their way to school

But that is not enough, because on Friday I decided it is high time to get some Jewish food supplies. I go to Golders Green about every three months to get some real hummus, pittas (don't get me started on what goes for pitta bread around here), wine and sweets. So we had more cakes. With chocolate. I am just thankful that Yon is even a bigger chocolate crazy than me. Makes me look so much saner when he runs around the house yelling "chocolate. My precious..."  (he does an excellent Gollum). 

Yon really likes pancakes

And then somehow we got to today, Tuesday, and though I told myself again, that I will get back on the diet-horse on Monday, we somehow stumbled upon Pancake Day. And you know I am not one to give up a good excuse to celebrate a holiday, regardless of its relation to me, if it has good food. Right after Pancake Day we have Purim, which you don't know about unless you are Jewish and why would you want to be Jewish? There really aren't a lot of reasons, but Purim is the main one. It is, after all, the candy holiday. Very diet fitting.

Purim food

After that Ron and I always celebrate St. Patrick's Day, for one reason alone - we get to eat mint-chocolate. Hidai doesn't like it and he always looks at us funny when we eat it, so I don't get to eat it a lot. Why on St. Patrick's Day you ask? The answer should be obvious really, because it has a green wrapping of course. And green is the colour of St. Patrick's Day. I expected you to know that.

That is followed by Mother's Day, or as I like to call it - Only Mummy Gets The Good Chocolate Day. After all, nothing says we love you mummy more than not eating my fancy chocolate, right?

Is it flowers or is it really.... You guessed it ;)

Hey, it's not my fault. I wanted to diet, I wanted to exercise. It's not my fault I opened the mailbox and discovered a box of chocolate from Hotel Chocolate last week.

At that point I decided to look at it as fate's way of saying - lose the diet, embrace the spring!

I hope you enjoyed reading the post :) I would really appreciate two minutes of your time and a vote for Best Writer (and best blog if you are so inclined) at the MAD blog awards -
Just press the photo and copy in my URL - http://londondegani.blogspot.co.uk
Thank you very much!

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House hunting in London

Last week I woke up and it hit me. In four months will reach the two years mark of living in London. It's a silly thing, but I can't believe it's been almost two years. They have not gone as planned at all. London was supposed to be my oasis, my peace and quiet and no more worries zone. It was supposed to give me back the peace of mind and ability to sleep a full night. It was supposed to be, in my head, a smooth ride. Instead it gave us two years full of bumps along a magnificent road.
So I didn't notice the time passing, because I was too busy looking at it through appointments and tests and forms to fill. The only way I track the months is through my friend Michelle's beautiful little girl - every month she puts a photo on Facebook, and every month I "like" it and say out loud to myself "but she can't be 11 months old! She was just born, like, yesterday!" I stopped saying that to Michelle though. For some reason she doesn't find it amusing...
Time is a funny thing, and as we are fast approaching the birthday season around here, it never even occurred to me to connect it to the passage of time in London.
And then another frightening thought hit me - our contract for renting this flat is up. Now you might think that it's frightening because we really want to stay here and the landlord won't renew our contract, or he might up the rent a few tens of pounds a week. But that's not it at all we can stay, and the rent around here stayed about the same this last couple of years so no upping it. No, the real reason it's frightening is because it suddenly dawned on me that we can move.

Just an example for a house and a street around here

Why would we want to move? Mostly because it's been two years, so somehow it feels mandatory. We've never lived anywhere more than two and a half years. In 13 years we moved 6 homes, 4 cities, 3 countries. I just can't think about this flat being the one that breaks our tradition. Then there is the fact that it's practically a shoebox, and not an adult-zise high-heel knee-high-boots shoe box. No, we live in a child-sized shoebox. And it's getting a tad crowded, but then again, maybe only when the kids are around. And thirdly, because moving solves everything. I mean, what do you do when your head becomes over populated with worries and questions and what-if's? You move. If the over population isn't too bad, you move a house, or a city, or in London's case a borough. If the questions become too much, you move a country (or at least that is what I tell Hidai whenever the question of Ron's secondary school pops up).
The problem with it is, that once the the thought of moving starts creeping in, you can't put the genie back in the bottle. Now we have to move because everything about this place annoys us.
So last week we decided to check the area, you know just to see what's out there before we actually start looking.

Look! THere's a rainbow! It must be a sign that it's time to move ;)

And here arose a few tiny insignificant problems. First of all, I have no idea how not to move immediately. Our average time of finding a place and moving is between 2 days and 2 weeks. I always find a place I want to move to, and then it annoys me to no end if I can't. But Hidai said we have to get to know the area better and be much more calculated and reasonable this time around. I on the other hand found three places I was willing to sign with on my first hour of looking.
But we are being calculated and all that, so we sat down to make a list of demands. It turned out we want to live in our flat, if only it included the flat above, just so we'll have somewhere to hide from the kids. We narrowed it down to the most basic two demands - obviously the kids can't change school, and we can't move too far away from Arsenal or Ron will hate us forever. But that's ok, we thought very naively, because we are on the border of three boroughs, two of which have a very good selection of homes in lower prices than what we pay today. Success. But not for us, because we have to stay in our borough. Yon is in the middle of all the evaluation / assessment / registration process and if we move we lose everything and have to start all over. And the worst part is we lose our special advisor, right before he starts year 1. That is a big fat no.
So after a very nice weekend of Zooplaing around the boroughs and selecting a few homes to see and fantasising about all the money we'll save, and the incredibly spacious house we'll have, we found ourselves right back where we were two years ago when we  had one week to find this house - with no choice of properties. Our borough is not an easy one to find a decent house for a decent price in. In fact it thrives on very old houses and very high prices. Mostly because it populates too many "young professionals" who think putting the main loo on the roof is quirky rather than just plain idiotic, its advantages - central, close to the tube, trendy, diverse and close to Arsenal - are also what makes it so hard to find a decent place that fits a family of four.

Our view in Gibraltar

Our view now

Then you have the problem of not actually wanting a house. I have to confess, I am what you might call totally paranoid, and Hidai is what you might call a neat-freak. And we got used to having a magnificent view when you look out the window. Somehow living in an old crumbling house (not because that is how houses in general are, but because that is how most houses that are for rent in our area are), that looks exactly like every other house on the street, that never feels clean, always faces the street, and has no view other than cars, just doesn't seem appealing. But on the other hand, it has a garden and much more space. And also it might have a loo on the roof, which is a feature after all.
Truth is, we love our flat. We love everything about where we live, right from the "legendary address" to the newness of the complex, to the underfloor heating and double glazing, and the view. It's just that it's small. And our downstairs neighbour is against kids and treadmills. And it's been almost two years.
And I am starting to feel those itching feet, that need for newness, the thirst for adventure. I can feel it bubbling just underneath the surface, and I know - hold on to your suitcases boys and girls. We are moving.
Well, not really, we have about four months here, and still no idea what to do with our list of house-demands. Then again, my Zoopla, Right Move and Prime Locations accounts are all set to "immediate alerts" so...

I hope you enjoyed reading the post :) I would really appreciate two minutes of your time and a vote for Best Writer (and best blog if you are so inclined) at the MAD blog awards -
Just press the photo and copy in my URL - http://londondegani.blogspot.co.uk
Thank you very much!

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The Great British Budget Challenge

I am, as usual, a bit late to the party but this time I have a very good excuse. I have been terribly sick for about two weeks and spent my time in bed and with no internet connection. I am still on my way to feeling human again, but I really wanted to tell you about something so I am taking time off from being sick to tell you about this project I am happy, though a bit surprised, to be a part of.
YourWealth.co.uk have launched a campaign to help Britain stay on a budget in February. Now, I know what you are probably thinking, because I thought the same thing - February is a short month so if you must find a month to pledge some life-changing thing in February is your best bet. All the people who choose January just set themselves up for failure with its 31 long days and depressing weather. February is your best bet, after all it's almost the end of winter, it's short and you have Valentine's Day in the middle as the best excuse for breaking your pledge without feeling guilty about it. We really wanted to stay off chocolate and booze but, you know, it's Valentines.

Which obviously leads everyone here to understand the massive amazement at choosing me to be a part of a budgeting campaign. Truth is I am not a budget person, I don't enjoy finding ways to save money, I don't live a thrifty lifestyle, I avoid talking or thinking or dealing with money as much as possible. Also really enhances the irony of the fact that I have a degree in Economics. For years we lived on what you might call a loose budget, that never really held together. We were young, we were naive (you can call it stupid), we looked ahead and all we saw was a huge amount of years were things will sort themselves out.
In our defence we didn't really had much choice, because after all we did need to eat sometimes, and life in Israel did not allow you to both eat and pay rent. We were never really extravagant or lived beyond our means you know with fancy holidays or designer clothes. It was just that we were a young couple with a child, I was studying in uni and we were both working (Hidai full time and I part time) and we still couldn't quite make it to be enough.
And then comes the question - is that really it? Are we supposed to live in semi-poverty for the rest of our life? In Israel if you say you want more, no, that you deserve more than being able to buy food and pay the rent at the same month, people look at you and sneer. You don't deserve more. Life is not for having fun, life is not so you can actually see your children grow up, life is not for you to enjoy. Life is to win the contest of who suffers more.
You see, we never lived like that, and though I was never really sorry for the things we spent our money on, we did get into debt.
To be honest, when we were young the debt didn't bother me much. Neither did living on the edge of our financial rope. But the years do go by, and faster than you imagine when you are in your twenties.
And today, after seeing how far and how fast things can fall, and after being on the verge of loosing everything, the problem is that once it happens to you, you can never again say "it won't happen to me" or "it will all be ok". And I no longer look at the money we owe in the same way. I no longer sleep well at night knowing we have debt.
I am still not a budget lover, I don't think I will ever be. But for the past year and a half we have been living on a budget, and have started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. We are in our mid-thirties now, it is the time to start thinking ahead about pension, about university tuitions, about where we want to go and what we want to be able to give our kids when they grow up. It is our time to start planning ahead and to make sure we will not be in a position where we can fall.
Life, and I say it a lot lately, takes you through a journey you can't foresee. It leads you down paths you never imagined, and it throws things at you you really didn't think it will.
Budgeting is a horrible word, just like dieting. It reeks of no's, of poverty, of abstinence.
It is also the only way to sleep peacefully at night.

If you want to be a part of the Great British Budget, and I really recommend you do (and no, they really don't pay me to say that), just press this link and join. They have a budgeting tool, tips and advice, and prizes to be won throughout the month of February.

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NatWest First Saver and Growing Up Fast

A few weeks ago I got invited to participate in making a video for the new NatWest First Saver account for under 16s. When I say "I" what I really mean is Ron, since they wanted to interview children to see how much they know about money and savings. To tell you the truth I wasn't really sure if he would go for it. Ron is quite camera-shy, and talking to a stranger on camera about things he doesn't really understand did not sound like a recipe for success to me, so I was as surprised as anyone when he wanted to go for it. Yon of course was not invited because he is too young but still found himself in the middle of it all and participated happily without knowing anything about anything.

I guess it's true that the way we raise our children derives straight from our own childhood, the ways in which we want to be like or the exact opposite of our parents (and the way we perceived them), the scars we carry with us, and the lessons we learned from it. When it comes to money it becomes so much more difficult because it is tied so closely with our upbringing, our parents, our demons and fears. Money and food are the two most difficult things in life to get a handle on, the two things in which we want to be sure we raise our children to be better than us, and the two things in which there is no one right answer.
We have made our decisions about how we want to raise the children before they were born, and we knew for sure and without a doubt that we do not want them to have pocket money, or bank accounts, or knowledge of what things cost or what is "real" or "fake" merchandise. We also decided that they will have no knowledge of "rough times" or feel like they are lacking or missing something.
On the other hand, we never intended to raise lazy, pampered slacks who thinks they are entitled to everything just because they said so.
It is a very fine line to walk on but walk on it we did. We've managed to explain budgeting, and earnings, and donations, and selling things, and volunteering without using quantities of money and (hopefully) without ever letting our boys feel insecure about our financial situation. But you know how it is that you blink and the kids have grown a couple of years? I so often feel that's what happened with Ron, and when we got this NatWest invitation, after I managed to close my mouth from the shock of him actually wanting to participate, I used the opportunity to really discuss the subject of "money" with him. It's surprising what kids see as "a lot of money", and his answer regarding how much he thinks the new xBox he wanted for Christmas really cost was priceless (actually it was priced at less than a 100 pounds).

What Ron took from our conversation was the understanding that things cost more than he thought, and that it takes time and effort to make your budget stretch so you can get everything you want. He loved learning all about savings and loans and stocks. He loved it because it's maths, it makes sense for him, it all relate to what he likes best - numbers and patterns.
What I took from our conversation with Ron, beside the fact that he is growing up so quickly it is sometimes scary, is that it is time to start thinking of a change. I am proud of the young teenager he is so fast becoming, and he announced he doesn't want for anything, and is not ready to have pocket money yet, though he wants to open it to renegotiating when he is 10 years old. Still it is time Hidai and I face the next stage of our parenting and start moving toward the teen years, and what we think a child should be equipped with when you set him loose into the world. Money is a big part of it (knowing how to do the dishes and the laundry, clean your own toilet and cook some basics is another part). He should be able to handle a basic budget, he should be able to learn what it means to save, to invest (if he wants), to spend. He should be able to do all these things safe in the knowledge that he has a safety net and it is not really a life or death situation.

How do I combine all these with my desire for him to keep the belief that money is only a mean and not the end? How do I teach him that it is more important to be able to give, to be a good person, to do what he loves and that money comes and goes? How do I teach him what everyone learn too late - that time and not money is the most valuable thing a person has? How do I teach him all that and still teach him to be, as people like to say, "good with money"?
I guess NatWest gave me a starting point, and a wake up call.
And also a very nice piggy bank which Yon stole and is now a part of his animal collection.

And here are Ron & Yon in the Natwest ad (they have the closing statement so worth waiting for) -

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Spread a little happiness (#spreadalittlehappiness)

A few weeks ago the lovely Jocelyn from The Reading Residence contacted me about taking part in a blog flash mob and spread some happiness around. Of course I said yes, because how can you possibly say no to the wish to spread some happiness? Then the not any less lovely Jeanette from Autism Mumma invited me to join her linky "You are my sunshine" that, you know, spread some happiness around. Honestly, I have no idea how they both came to think that I am any good in spreading happiness but of course I said yes, because how can you possibly say no to the wish to spread some happiness? I am sure you can guess what happens next, because life is funny like this - nothing good or happy or funny.
Well, thinking about it now, maybe that isn't completely true, it is January 27 after all. And that means one very big and very happy thing - we have survived yet another January. The longest, saddest most depressing month of the year is nearly finished, and it will be one whole year before it will be January again. We have passed Blue Monday, the end is near (and so is the next payday) and the last few days of January are the perfect time of the year to try and find some cheer I guess. In fact it reminded me that last year I made a January Happy List intended to do just that - reflect on all the things that were good and happy in January, in the hopes that it will lift my spirit enough to forget the fact that February really isn't much better than January. Though it does have something going for it - it is 3 days shorter than January.

New year photo - bring on 2014!

So here it is - January, the good bits:

1. I read two books. You might think that 2 books really isn't all that much, I know some people have joined a 52 books challenge, but compared to last year's 5 books all year (that should really read no books all year), I went for a book a month goal, just because as I saw it, reading means I have free time for myself. I managed two in January, which puts me ahead and also is good because there is no way I can read a book every month, and now I have a month free of reading-pressure. Unfortunately what it also means is that I haven't been sleeping well, because I don't really have time for myself, what I do have is a Kindle and insomnia. But we are focusing on the good things.
2. I discovered I don't have a serious medical problem, as in MS. Only some weird structural things in my neck. And with that I am finished with the NHS and physiotherapy.
3. I got a new MacBook which I absolutely love. And with a nice discount from Apple and selling my old one, it only cost me a quarter of its original price. And the best thing about it - it actually works, and when you want to open the photo editor while still listening to music and keeping the Safari open, because I am irrational like that, it does not hold out a note saying "are you kidding me?!"

Me & my Mac

4. I started volunteering in the boys school. Since the beginning of January I volunteer at school once a week and help prepare children to the Bond 11+ exams. I was under "new staff" in the last Governor's report. It is something I have been thinking about for a while and am very happy I had the courage to set up. It also really made me appreciate teaching and teachers much more. And I only have 5 kids in my club...

My room at school. I have a badge and everything.

5. I was in Good Housekeeping Magazine, in an article they wrote about our visit to Parliament and meeting with the PM.

6. The kids went back to school, and did very very well. Ron got lots of praises for his writing, and got to read a poem in the special assembly they had for students and parents.

7. Ron and Hidai went to see Arsenal win, which is good for everyone - for Arsenal, for them, and for me because I got a few hours of quiet and two happy boys.

8. Yon learned how to play on the xBox. It is so much easier for him than the Wii. He got an animal game and got the hang of the driving game really fast. I know people say you shouldn't be happy and even more than that you shouldn't encourage your kids to play in these electronic games, but with Yon's vision the fact that he can see the courser, and manage to operate the games is nothing short of amazing.

Yon driving

9. I lost 2.5 kilos since I started Weight Watchers again on the second week of January. I know it doesn't read like this from my Friday Diet series, and though it has not all been a smooth ride, but I am starting to feel better and look like myself again.
10. We've started a new "Movie Night" tradition every Saturday evening with the boys, and it's really fun having an excuse to actually take the time to watch movies, and especially ones that can only be classified as guilty pleasures, or more accurately "all the movies you are too ashamed to admit you want to watch". This week for example we watched Pirates Of The Caribbean. Only problem is, there is no popcorn. Or wine. Or chocolate.

And last but by no mean least, in fact it should have been first, because it makes me smile every time they do that - I got the boys to sing. On camera.

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