The Challah Experiment

One of the things that frustrate me to no end is that my boys do not like baking. I mean they will eat cake, especially if said cake has any form of chocolate in it, and they will criticise the cake and the baker as if they are tiny Paul Hollywoods gone rogue, but they don't like the actual baking. Everywhere I look there are people whose kids absolutely adore helping them in the kitchen, people who regard baking with kids as a half-term activity, people who invent recipes with their kids. Baking, all the parenting sites say, is a great way to connect with your children. In theory at least. Apparently my kids didn't read those sites as their reaction when I even start saying "do you want to help me...." is to run away screaming. No, they would not like to help me. They would rather do anything else. They would rather tidy up their room, do the laundry, read a book, everything but bake.

For someone whose life revolves around baking, that is quite frustrating. And embarrassing. Of course I know why they don't like baking (and mainly baking with me), it is a lethal combination of Yon's fear of getting dirty, Ron's inability to accept deviations from the written recipes and my need for perfection. Add to that the fact that we constantly quarrel for control, and the only recipe you get is for disaster.

But I couldn't let it go because baking is such an important part of life -  it is the perfect combination between science and art, it is a place to work on so many of their issues and it's a great way for them to impress girls in the future.
And even that is not why I decided to bake with them.
It was because I found it inconceivable that they don't know how to bake a Challah. We Jewish people take our Fridays very seriously, and a big part of a Friday is the special-family-evening-meal, which the Challah is a big part of. For Jewish people braiding a Challah is basic, it is something you learn in nursery, when every Friday the nursery teacher makes the dough and all the kids braid their own little challahs. Well, at least that is how it was in the olden days. Ron never baked a Challah in his Israeli kindergarten days, but hey, why should I let reality interfere with my nostalgia and the fear that I am raising the boys to have no roots and no connection to their traditions?

You could argue that there are more important traditions the boys are missing out on, and you could definitely argue that teaching two baking-haters the secret of a good Challah isn't going to make them like their religion and roots more. But it was Friday, and I am not really good at listening, so Challah baking it was.
I've decided to go the extra mile (I don't do simple) and found a recipe that doesn't need eggs so I could divide everything to three and have them not only braid the Challah but make the whole thing themselves, because it will be more fun (?!) and it will let them experience for themselves the magic of baking. You know, that moment when your gooey blob becomes dough. I did not account for the fear of dirt, or the whining, or the constant comparisons.

I have to give it to them, though, they did try. They enjoyed helping me measure the materials (after I explained to Ron that we will not be following the recipe exactly), Ron did rather well with kneading (though Yon didn't touch it and Hidai did that part for him), we all had the "ahhhh moment" when the blob became dough, they understood the basic of braiding (surprisingly enough Yon more than Ron) and we only had one incident involving tears.

But without a doubt the best part was the decorating. In a brave and tradition-shattering move, I've decided to forgo the classic Challah decoration - sesame, poppy, or almonds - and go for the kids friendly - chocolate chips, candied nuts, and pearl sugar. Best decision of the day, and the only part I can say without hesitation both of them loved.
That and seeing their creations come out of the oven.

A few months ago I wrote a post about how life is like baking, about how sometimes you need something to remind you of who you are. Me, I could always find myself in baking.
My boys, though they did enjoy themselves and proudly showed everyone their baking-creations, grow up in a different world, with a different sense of self and different things to ground them. Traditions are a funny things, they are very easy to create and very hard to force. I can't make my kids  bake with me every Friday because this is the tradition I imagine I would like to have, or because it will ease my guilt. Though my Challah experiment was a success (or so Hidai informed me. I finished it with a headache and no ability to think straight) I have to let them grow up in the here and now, and enjoy the traditions we create together.
And honestly, once was enough.

The recipe I used is (link is to the Hebrew original) -
1 kg flour (I used strong white)
2 Spoons of dried yeast
150 gr caster sugar (the recipe itself says less. A lot less, but I like it sweet)
3/4 cup oil
2 glasses of lukewarm water
1Spoon salt
Put everything together (I like to put it all except salt, knead a little and then add the salt) knead well for about 10 minutes until you get a nice, soft, non-sticky dough (we did it by hand, but obviously you can use a machine), oil it well and let it prove until it double it size (around 1-2 hours). Then deflate it, knead for a little and start making rolls.
Put the rolls very speciously on a baking tray lined with baking-paper, and prove for about 30 minutes. After the second proving, heat the oven to 180 degrees and beat one egg. Brush the egg on the rolls and throw on the toppings.
Bake for about 25 minutes until they are golden brown and when you tap on the bottom (caution - it's hot) you hear a hollow sound.
Let it cool, because you never eat bread straight out of the oven.

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Easter conclusion

This is the first day of the last semester in school, also known as the Summer Semester, which can mean only one thing - it is raining. But it also means that Easter 2014 is behind us. Last night I asked the kids to summarise the holiday, which lead Yon to start talking about chocolate and MineCraft, and Ron to talk about lack of excitement in our life. He is right unfortunately, at the moment our life lacks excitements and adventures and though we have some very good reasons for it they don't change the fact that Easter this year was more of a relaxing at home kind of holiday and less of a barrel of outings and adventures.

We are hoping for some more interesting times in the coming months, but for now the two weeks we spent at home, in spite of Ron's complaining, were precisely what we all needed. It is no secret that we all have been having a rough few months both mentally and physically, and we needed time to lick some wounds, reach some life related conclusions and just rest.
And anyway it's not like we promised him we'd do something and didn't do it, but it's always like this - it doesn't matter what you'd do the kids will find a reason to complain about the one thing you didn't do with them.
So I made him list all the things he wanted to do and we didn't do, which he summed with - none, and then list the things we did do -

We went to the library, and apart from the book he got at school, and the four books he got from the library, he also got two more on the Kindle, so he read seven books this past two and a half weeks.

We had loads of movie nights and movie afternoon and watched a whooping total of ten movies together - Frozen (which we've ended up watching more than once), The Hobbit, both movies (because I got them for Hidai's birthday and the kids love them), Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (because Ron read the book), Amazing Spiderman (because we needed an excuse to watch it), Escape From Planet Earth (because the kids heard it's good. It was ok at best), Planes (really not worth it), Prince of Egypt (to get us in the Passover mood), Man of Steel (do yourself a favour and avoid at all cost) and Muppets Most Wanted (which was hilarious. It was the first time Yon was a delight to go to the cinema with).

We ate at McDonald's twice, and even got a Super Mario figurine and free chips. I think McDonald's is like everyone's secret guilty pleasure. We use the kids as an excuse to eat there, but the amount and verity of people you see in London eating there amazes me every single time.

We went to watch Arsenal play. It was the first time we've all gone together. Actually it was also the first time I got to see a real football match, and it is much better than having to watch one on TV. Unfortunately Yon wasn't really into it, and so it will probably also be the last match we'll see. At least we got to sit in the front row and watch Arsenal win.

We went clothes shopping for the kids, and mostly for Ron, who apparently thinks it is acceptable to keep growing and needs new clothes all the time. I love shopping, I love looking and buying and having new things, so going shopping for me is an enjoyable outing. Unless I have to take the kids. When you are new to parenthood you usually think kids clothes are the best. The joy of standing in the middle of a MotherCare baby clothes department and just looking at all those tiny colourful beautifully soft clothes is still fresh in my mind. It is nothing like walking with a reluctant almost nine years old who only has two modes: everything-is-fine-what-do-you-want-from-me-why-am-I-here or nothing-is-good-enough-I-hate-you-and-all-these-weird-looking-clothes-you-are-forcing-me-to-try-on. And no matter what his mood is, he will always go for the most expensive and usually totally weird looking thing in the store. Because he has Personal Taste. And everyone knows how important it is to let them develop their personal taste.
Yon, to add to the fun, is happy as a clam as long as you let him touch everything in the store. He has a thing for mannequins, but at least is very open to every shirt I pick. As long as I can up-sell it (look it has stripes - you will look like a zebra).
Thankfully Primark, which was our first stop, had heard my cry for help and came out with a football collection (probably has to do more with the World Cup in Brazil and less with me, but still), so it was also our last stop, and the whole thing was practically harmless. Also no mannequins were hurt in the process. Success.

We had family game-time so the kids could hone their Black Jack skills (a very important skill, and a chance for me to explain casino etiquette), Ron could beat me in a Memory Game marathon and Yon could beat both of us at Uno. Seriously that child has the best luck I have ever seen. It's scary.

We went to Moorfields Hospital. Granted most people won't call that an outing, and true it went a lot worse than expected, but Yon did get new glasses out of it. He chose Purple. We convinced him deep blue and dark purple are the same because Hidai was against real purple glasses. I said he should go for it, after all we get new ones every six months or less.

We celebrated Passover and Easter. The Easter bunny was very generous this year and even got us some proper grownup chocolate from Hotel Chocolate that we didn't even have to share with the kids. For the first time ever we also had an egg hunt (inside the house, but seeing as the boys are the worst seekers in the whole wide world, they still found it hard).

It took Ron awhile to list all this, and he needed some help along the way. Especially as all he could list at the beginning was "we had lots of electronics-time", which he did though he conveniently forgot to list the new games he got.
When he finished it all he stopped, looked at us, and concluded the holiday with the never to be forgotten saying - ok then, I am only half-complaining.
What a proud moment.

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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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Letting go and letting grow

I don't remember being a young mum. I blocked that first year with Ron completely because the only thing I do remember is the feeling that it will never end. The only thing I remember is how much I felt that it will never change. That when people told me that when he is three I won't remember, when they looked at me and said that babies grow up, when they promised it will all be ok - I didn't believe them. In my mind then it seemed as if even when he does grow up eventually and is no longer a baby, it will still be the same - that endless cycle of misery. Bit by bit he grew up and I regained some sanity and the ability to leave the house without taking half the house with me, and bit by bit I blocked it all until I was willing to give up everything I gained back in order to have Yon.
Yon was our "easy" baby (though compared to Ron all other babies are easy), and still if you ask me now how I got them to sleep through the night, or how I potty-trained them or how I weaned them, I will have no answers to give you. I don't remember any of it. As far as I'm concerned it just happened and I didn't do anything to facilitate it. It's all the boys by themselves.

Yon is also our last child. Hidai and I reached that decision a while back and never looked back. I am not sorry for that decision (on the contrary) but it does mean Yon can stay in his favourite position in the family - the baby. Ron was always the classic firstborn, and I was eager for him to grow up which worked very well with his wish to grow up, so he always gives you the feeling that you can really talk to him, like you would explain things to an another adult. Yon is a classic second (or last) child - he does not want any responsibility, he lives for attention and laughs, he is a notorious drama-queen, and he wants to stay a baby. He wants his nickname to stay "Baby Yon", he wants to be cuddled and kissed and hugged, he wants to be "tiny".
As it happens he wants all these things but without actually giving up his ability to do everything he wants "by myself!" so his wanting to stay small is more theoretical than anything else. The problem is that I sometimes stop and realise I forgot again. I forgot he isn't a baby anymore, he isn't even a toddler anymore. He is four and a half. But between him saying he is tiny, his being the youngest, my tendency to forget (who knows what 4 years old are supposed to be like?), my unwillingness to compare him to Ron (unfair to any other child anyway) and his Ocular Albinism and special needs - it is easy to forget and "baby" him.

With Yon, it's easy to look at him and not really see who he is or what he can do. Mainly because you don't really believe he can. As easy a baby as he was, he was a very tough to handle toddler. The last couple of years (up until this July when he turned 4), saw us battling behaviours and habits and roadblocks we never imagined we would have to.
To my untrained eyes, it looks as though Yon had some developmental delays, mainly because of side-afffects of his Ocular Albinism. We are still worried about his speech, and eating habits, and his learning abilities. But this past 6 months he made such a big improvement in everything, and really closed the gaps. And still sometimes you forget that he can, that he should, that he needs to be challenged.
It is a constant battle the believing he needs to be challenged and us wanting to teach him he can do anything and everything on the one hand, and not over protecting him on the other. We are over protective anyway, and with Yon it is even stronger, that need to keep him close and away from any harm.

This is how we found ourselves a couple of weeks ago at Winter Wonderland standing in front of the rides intended for younger children looking a bit baffled. Yon wanted to go on the flying airplanes one. Ron wasn't feeling very well and though he wasn't really sick I didn't want to take the chance that all the spinning will cause him to feel worse and throw up in the middle of the fair. The airplanes did not have seats big enough for adults to accompany the kids. Yon was insisting he wants up.
What do you do?
We stood there a while, letting him see the ride in action, trying to gauge if he understands what it means. He doesn't like to be "up" usually. He feels less secure and after a few seconds he always wants to "go down" and feel the ground underneath him. He never went on any ride by himself. He was really insisting by that time that he wants to get on. What do you do?
We let him do it.

We let him grow, and stretch his wings.
And he did.

I am linking this with Jane's Small Steps Amazing Achievements linky, which is meant to celebrate our children's achievements, though I really am not sure weather the achievement here was ours or Yon's.

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Siblings

There is a new linky going around the blogosphere, and it's all about siblings. It's all about taking a photo of your kids together at the 10th of every month. I looked around on Friday, and everyone were joining in, mostly saying how hard it was for them to find photos of their children together. I have the opposite problem, I have too few photos of each of them alone. Anyway, obviously I didn't join the linky (otherwise you would have seen this post earlier), but later that night my friend Steph joined it and invited me to join as well. I told her I have never done a photo post on my blog, as I prefer my photos to accompany my words. It is true, but it wasn't the real reason.

The real reason I didn't join the linky is that it touched a sore point with me. Siblings is somewhat of a touchy subject for me, and I just couldn't find the words or the will to write about it. Both Hidai and I don't have a good relationship with our siblings. It's for different reasons, and regardless of the "why" or the "blame game" the end result is the same - an almost non-existent relationship. It is a sad turn of events for sure, and one that is hard to live with at times, and at the same time not one that will change at the moment.
The reason I am telling you this, is that it started raising questions I have no answer to, and I am starting to be concerned about the future. Ron and Yon have a four year gap, a very different personality and interests, and have eased into the stage of jealousy and bickering lately. I know it's a phase, and that everyone goes through it and I shouldn't be worried about it, and that they are boys so half their interaction with the world is through fighting and grunting and bickering anyway. But I am worried, because I like to teach by example, and I don't have a good example to teach by in this case. How can I raise them to be good brothers, the way I think good brothers are supposed to be, when I don't have an example to give them? How do I make sure the differences in their personality - that I am sure will evolve into differences in lifestyle, careers, spouses, and location - won't hinder their relationship? How do I make sure they will be there for each other? How do I make sure my vision of a good sibling relationship is carried out, when I myself am such a bad example of it?

I would like Ron to help Yon and protect him. But he is 8 and a half and is heading straight into the stage where everything "embarrasses" him. Last week there was a fire alarm at school and Yon got scared and started crying (it was a combination of the cold, his regular teacher wasn't there and they had to stand in a different place). His teacher arrived after a few minutes and thought seeing Ron would help, so she took Yon to where Ron's class was. And Yon wanted a hug. I heard all this from Ron later, when he told me in horror how embarrassing it was to hug your little brother in front of the Whole School. I know it's more funny and touching and that the important thing was that he did hug his little brother even if it was in front of the whole school and extremely embarrassing. And I know I can't put too much pressure on Ron to protect Yon, but I would like him to want to do it. I know it's crazy and unrealistic and a fantasy...

I would like Yon to stop being jealous of Ron. To stop interrupting every time Ron speaks, and stop wanting so much attention every time Ron gets some. But he is 4 and a half and at this point in life it's just not going to happen.
I want them both to like each other and love each other and feel secure in their relationship and in our love for them.
I would have liked all this for Hidai and for myself.
And maybe that's just it, maybe I can't make sure of it, because maybe there is no good sibling relationship and it's all a fantasy I concocted in my head? I don't have any real-life example to give them, all I can do is point at them and say "do as I say and not as I do", which is never a good thing is it?

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Gifted and the internal storm

This year was supposed to be Yon's year. I was all ready for it to be a difficult year for Yon, with the move from nursery to reception, with having to learn how to read, with dealing with the systems to get the help and assistance he needs. I was ready for it all. And none of it was needed. Because in life, in the end of the day, it never the things you are ready for that hits you. And I wasn't ready to worry about Ron. It sounds flippant maybe, but the truth is he is in year four, it's his second year at this school, he is popular, a good student, he is known and he is loved. Why would I worry? I was so sure that I have nothing to worry about this year. And the realisation that I have dropped the ball hit me like a blow. Like a physical blow.
It's not that I haven't worried about Ron before, of course I have, but this last year was all about Yon, and Ron... I guess he got pushed aside a bit. I guess it's the curse of the "normal" siblings, or the older child, or the fact that there is a whole new world of worry you discover when you have a child with disability that makes everything looks small and insignificant in comparison, or the fact that he is so... Ron, but it really doesn't matter why, the truth is I got used to relying on the fact that "Ron is ok". And he was. Until he wasn't.
And when he had a hard time settling in school it hit me - he is in year four. My options are limited. My influence on the school is limited. My ability to protect him and to solve all his problems is very very limited. What can you do when your child needs your help and you aren't sure anymore that you can give it?

I am not the home-schooling type. I know not everyone thinks the same as me, and I respect it completely, but as for me, I believe children need school, they need the structure, the other adults, their friends and the ability to make mistakes without their mother looking. And to be honest, I don't think I have what it takes to be a good home-schooling-mother. And I hate arts & crafts. But it doesn't mean I don't know what problems you face when you send a child to school. The school system isn't perfect, far from it. And though I don't agree with the lady I read this week who described it as a prison, I do agree that like any system it has to be aimed at the middle, at the "normal", at the "average" child (the brackets are because of course there is no such animal, but you know what I mean). My kids, like plenty of others, do not fall under that definition. The biggest fear I have is that they will both "get lost"in the system. It is easy for a busy teacher to pay less attention to the good kids, the silent kids, I understand that, I was that child, and I'll be damned if I let my children fall between the cracks of the education system.
But then you get to year four and you realise the system is so much bigger than you, it is so much harder to change and to move and taylor to your child's needs. I see it with Yon and the SEN and disability side of the coin, and I see it with Ron and the giftedness side of the coin. It all depends on the school and even more than that, on the teacher.

I guess some of it is our fault. We have this discussion every year, should we or shouldn't we get Ron tested? Should we try our luck with Mensa or not? And we always decide not to, because we fear the pressure it will put on him. We fear his need to be better than everyone, his innate competitiveness, and to some extant we fear the label. Gifted is not an easier label to live with than any other SEN label. And Ron has never missed anything because he wasn't tested, but the other side to the decision not to test him is that every year we start off as "those parents", every year with no exception we start from scratch. It isn't any easier to convince a teacher after a teacher to give Ron what he needs than it is to convince them to give Yon what he needs.
But he is Ron, and until this year we never had a problem with it. However, when you put together a new teacher who does not like maths and football as much, his beloved teacher from last year going to Hong-Kong to teach English, his edging towards becoming a tween, and a rough year around here, what we got was a very long and hard adjustment period that included tears, screaming, throwing things, hitting a few bins, a mandatory "I hate you", and maths mistakes (you have to understand Ron doesn't make maths mistakes. As he put it - "I was born to do maths and football". Maths mistake is like a big neon sign screaming that something isn't right). It all spiralled downward very quickly.
When kids grow up you can't fix everything. We couldn't fix it all for Ron this time, and I guess from now on we will never be able to anymore. One of life's harshest lessons we have to teach our kids is that life isn't fair. You don't always get what you should or what you deserve to. And you still have to go on. One of the harshest life lessons we have to learn as parents is that sometimes it's not ours to solve. Sometimes you can talk and explain and get upset all you want, but at the end of the day - it's his to solve.

Last week we felt he is finding his way back. We talked to him, we talked to the teacher, we talked to the head-teacher, we talked and talked and worried. And I can see it so clearly now when I look in his eyes, I can see the child he was and the tween he is becoming, I can see the rough road we are heading down, and I hope I can see the adult he will become.
In the end, he had to fix it all for himself. He was the one who made sure to train hard and be the only year 4 child to get to play on the school football team (most of them are year 6. Big year 6), and though we did talk to the head-teacher about advancing his maths by taking him out of his class, he had to take the tests they put in front of him, and last week (without our knowledge) they made him do 4 maths tests. One year 4 test, and 3 year 5 maths tests. when two of them were surprise-tests. He passed all of them, and they moved him to study maths with year 5 and promised us that they will build him his own plan. All he cares about is that they will allow him to never use a number-line again.

We couldn't make the school change the winter-play to something that has more then 10 characters in it. We couldn't make them understand that you should encourage children to participate and not audition them as if it's a Broadway show. But my Ron, he never cease to amaze me. I explained it to him, and I told him that though I don't think the school decision is fair it is what it is and we have to accept and respect it. And most of all I told him I am proud of him for trying and doing his best. I also told him that he doesn't have to take the minor part he was promised (in the end he got a part with three lines. Because his parents made a fuss about it). He looked at me and said no. He will take it. And he will not stop auditioning until he got a main part.
Because he is pure determination my Ron.

Linking this post with Small Steps Amazing Achievements over at Ethan's Escapade,

                                    Motivational Monday over at Pinkoddy

                                    #PoCoLo over at Verily Victoria Vocalises 

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Baking and autumn hope

Not all those who wander are lost. I've been thinking about this phrase a lot this last couple of weeks. Maybe because I feel I am. Lost, that is. I have been feeling low and unwell and lost for the past couple of weeks. I've tried writing positive things in hopes that it will cheer me up but I am not a cheerful-inspirational kind of person so unfortunately it did not work as planned and I got some not-so-nice reactions which left me feeling even more low, and questioning the whole blogging thing. I felt my blog (or maybe it's me) is going nowhere or maybe backwards as everyone around me is moving forward. So I tried taking a few days off and hide from the rest of the world - no twitter, no facebook, no contact with anyone. But that just made me feel even worse, as I watched one episode after another of TV shows where everything gets better in just 45 minutes, while I had too much time to think and not like where all my thoughts were taking me. So I tried to take all the anti-flu medications I could find in my medicine-drawer (and believe you me, there are a lot of them there) because according to other people (Hidai) when I'm sick I get depressed. You know how it is that you can look at your child and your first thought is "I think he is coming down with something"? With my kids it's eating. The minute they eat less is the minute you know they are coming down with the flu. For me it's the doom & gloom. When you start hearing me talk about how my life is ruined and it will never get better, that's your sign to give me a couple of Lemsips and send me to bed (and not talk to me, unless you want to hear how miserable my life has been since the moment I was born). All those pills did help a bit, but I have been left in this not-really-sick-not-really-healthy kind of thing, which left me in a place where I can laugh at my gloom & doom but I still feel it creeping back up.

So when hiding, self-medicating and feeling sorry for myself didn't help and everything did look like it will never get any better, I took solace in the fact that everyone around me seemed as miserable as I am. Everywhere I went, every blog I read, every person I talked to said the same thing - November isn't a good month. It's not its fault, I guess, that there is nothing very comforting or nice about it - the weather gets colder, the days get shorter, the gloom is everywhere. Christmas is still too far away to get into the spirit, and it all seems kind of hopeless. I went back to check (se easy to do when you have a blog where your life is just spread out) and last year was exactly the same. November was not a good month.
I guess there is something comforting about this consistency. It's like the tide. But not while you are in the middle of it. Not while you are bust constantly looking around and seeing the should-haves, the could-haves the why-didn't-I. Not in the moments where hope seems like your worst enemy and not what helps you get up in the morning.

But then hope doesn't ask you when to show up does it? On Friday Ron & I watched the last of the Bake Off Masterclass shows, and after I explained to him that a. real baking is not as easy as watching Paul & Merry on TV, and b. baking is part science and part art, Ron decided to learn how to bake. I didn't take him seriously because, well, because none of my boys has ever showed any interest in baking apart from the eating part of it. But as it turned out he was serious, and that is how on Sunday morning I found myself explaining the basic of baking to an 8 years old, and letting him bake his first cake all by himself.

I don't get a lot of shared activities with my kids, I mean ones I also enjoy. I have always been secretly jealous of those parents whose kids enjoy baking, or shopping, or making jewellery, while I had to learn all about football. And zoo animals. I hate animals, and all things sports. But I love my kids, so I can tell you everything you didn't want to know about the English Premier League, and the London zoo. Baking has always been my thing, and being able to share it with Ron was a wonderful experience both for me and for him, one I resigned myself to thinking will never happen.

I chose a simple old fashion coffee cake for him to try out from a children's baking book I bought years ago when I was under the impression that my kids will for sure be into baking. First thing I learned is - I need a new children's book. Preferably a British one. But after Ron and I overcame the fact that the ingredients we had at home were a little different than the ones in the recipe (I told him I will teach him only if he won't complain when I change ingredients or quantities), I overcame my need to have everything done my way (also known as "the right way"), and Hidai overcame his fear of having the kitchen all messy, we were on our way to baking.

Ron did most of it by himself, from setting out the ingredients, to breaking the eggs, mixing everything, pouring the mixture and doing the dishes, with I was just standing alongside him, cheering him on (and helping with the oven). After an hour in the oven his first cake was ready and I got a moment I have long ago gave up on hoping for.

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The question

Every parent has a list of questions that he doesn't really want to answer. I guess it's different to every family, but there are some common ones - where do babies come from, what happens when you die, why are there poor people, why are there wars in the world, am I going to die, why do I have to clean my room? I am in charge of answering most of these questions, except the babies / private parts / changes as a man things. After all, answering these kind of questions is one of my main reasons for keeping his dad around. Ron had a tendency to ask these questions at the worst timing possible, like when you are in a rush to get everyone ready in those morning when you are already late to school, or when it's past his bedtime, or when you have to answer a really important email. Those are the times he gets the "great question ask it again in 2 to 10 hours please" kind of answer. So we started working with him on the whole "when to talk and when to shut up" etiquette of life (also related to sayings like "I knew nobody will clean this house" or "You did not buy milk? Again?" that were frequent in our house a few weeks back, but are not relevant to the point if this post). Apparently we were successful as we now get these questions at dinnertime, when we can choke on our food while trying to come up with a good answer to the question what is racism.

Not last night, but still pizza

Last night, while we were eating pizza and talking bake-off (it was the finale after all), he asked me the question I was dreading most in the world. I can deal with death, I stumbled my way through racism, I preached about God, but I really really wasn't ready to answer this one - Does Santa exist?
Ron is not the most imaginative child out there, and last year I already had a tiny suspicion that he really doesn't believe in Santa anymore, but I did not ask him directly and somehow managed to convince him that mummy is Santa's elf and that is why I am in charge of everyone's gifts. But it is this time of year again, and the Christmas talks have already began, the Christmas catalogues are making their way to our house, and the stores are filling up with Christmas merchandise. I always knew this day would come, but I always figured it will be later, that I still have some years to enjoy the real Christmas feel, the joy of magic and Santa and carrots for reindeers. When he was younger I thought that I will tell him that yes, of course Santa exist, as in - lie to my child. Yes, I know it isn't the right thing to do, especially when you teach your children that lying is bad, but I really thought that it's the right way to go here, because I really do want to stretch this innocence and childhood phase for as long as I can. I believe that you should believe in Santa, that 8 isn't the age to burst their bubble, that children should stay oblivious to the bad things in life for as long as they can. But like I said, that was when Ron was younger and I thought I had all the answers.

That's me in my elf-costume. Very believable, I know!

About a month ago my friend told me that her daughter was told that there is no Santa by some other child, in a very malicious way, and that she is really upset and feel like she has lost Christmas. My friend said her daughter came to her and asked her if it's true that there is no Santa. She said yes. What else could she have done in this case? I have no idea. It is such a tough call to make in a situation like this, but it got me thinking about how I really don't want Ron to experience that loss of Christmas, and on the other hand I really want him to believe in magic. He is at the transition stage of starting to care what others think of him, of wanting to be like everyone else. It is a glimpse both to the future and his teenage years, and both to the past and my teenage years. Last week they had music-class and the teacher asked each of them if they know another language beside English (most of them do) and if they can say something, I think it was "you're welcome" in their other language. Ron wouldn't. He is the only Jewish / Israeli child in his school (well, now he has Yon so they are two, but you know what I mean) and he felt too embarrassed to say it, he was afraid kids would laugh at him, that they wouldn't like his language, that they would think he is weird. It didn't help that I reminded him that a lot of his classmates are "the only child from...", he still wouldn't. After that came the school decision to celebrate all the different religions and holidays that the kids in our school have around this time of year. I think it's a lovely idea, but he doesn't. You see, we have Hannukah in December, which is my favourite holiday (we get to eat doughnuts for eight days in a row because we have to. How can you not love it?) and the holiday most non-Jewish people recognise. But like I said, he is the only Jewish child in school (no, it did not help when I said that Yon is there too. Neither did it help to remind him that the head teacher is Jewish). This is not his decision to make, but he did say he doesn't want us volunteering to help with anything and embarrassing him.

Hannukah (last year)

This is why it surprised me to no end, and also my amazing achievement for this week, that he came home and declared that he is going to audition for the Christmas play in school. They are doing The Wizard of Oz, in front of the whole school and parents. And not only that, for the first auditions they had to practice a dialogue between Dorothy and the Scarecrow, so they were divided into pairs, and as it turned out, he had to do Dorothy's part. And he did. He practiced his lines every day (with our help - I was the scarecrow and Yon was Toto), learned them by heart and passed his audition with flying colours. On Monday they were told that those who past the first audition had to do a second audition (or in Ron's words - Just like in the X-Factor!). This time he was the scarecrow, and they had to act the scene of meeting the wizard, from where the stage will be, while everyone were watching them. He did. I don't know if he passed or not, he is supposed to get the answer today. But that is not the point of it, the point was that he wanted to be part of something that will put him in the spotlight, and that others can make fun of, and that will make him "different". I am very proud of him (and obviously told him so), because it really doesn't matter what the result will be, it matters that he went for it and did his best (he is so cute when he is acting...).
And as for Santa, I told him that I know some of the kids in his class are saying that there is no Santa, and I know he is getting older and it can be "childish" or "embarrassing" to say out loud that you believe in magic, or in Santa. But the truth is that it is a belief, and beliefs are personal, they are to be kept in your heart alone. You can choose to believe that Santa exist, you can choose to believe that he doesn't. I choose to believe he does. You don't have to tell us or anyone else what you believe in, and furthermore you can say "ha ha, I know he doesn't exist" when deep inside you really do believe he exist. And that Christmas is that much more fun and magical if you choose to believe.

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