Music, When Needed

A couple of weeks ago, I opened a new Pinterest account. I am not really sure what Pinterest is all about, and how other people use it, but for me, it gives me a place to be as kitsch as I want, and Pin all the kitschy-sappy quotes I want and can find, without being ashamed of the fact that even though I am a die hard (and quite pessimistic) cynic, I actually like kitsch and “inspiring quotes”. That is why if you go to my Pinterest you will see mostly quotes & kitsch. I give myself 20 minutes a day, right after dinner, for finding more of them, and I have to say I really am enjoying it. Last week when I was in one of those twenty minutes, I found a quote about music being the answer to everything.

I don’t remember if I pinned it or not, because, well, it isn’t. But it still stuck with me. A few days after that, on Saturday, I got an invitation from Kelly, who writes the lovely blog Tiasmums 12 to join a meme about “my ultimate summer driving playlist”. I have to admit I have no idea what a “meme” is. A quick glance at Google was no help, but as far as I could understand it it’s a chain thing, where I am supposed to write about my chosen summer music, and then tag a few other unsuspecting people to do the same.

Why would someone choose me for something like that, I have no idea. Obviously Kelly did not read my Changes, Kellogg's & iPads post and was unaware that I am incapable of taking a simple question and giving a straight answer. I love complicating things unnecessarily. Just because I can. 
Also, she was unaware that I don't own a car. Or go anywhere.
I didn't want to be a grouchy person, so I thought about actually participating in this meme, but the more I thought about it, the more I found that I have a difficulty with it, with writing about the music that I love. It felt like an intrusion of privacy to me. Funny, because I can and do share so many things others will feel are much more private than music. But my music, the music I wanted to write about, is so much more than music. Some days it's the only thing that kept me sane. That kept me going. And putting it out there to be scrutinised and laughed at, was a tough request. 

But in the end of the day I decided to kind of participate in this meme, because the thing is, music is important to me. To all of us. We have music in the background most of the day, we try and educate the kids that there was music before One Direction, and mainly because I often feel like life should (and do) have a soundtrack. I guess that's why we try to find a theme song for different periods of life. At the moment it's Bob Marly's Three Little Birds, because it's the kids choice, and because we need to go with the "every little thing is gonna be alright".

Having said that, I have to admit that I am very bad at recognising songs or artists, remembering lyrics and music, and being able to listen to a whole album from start to finish. My playlist is an amazingly disorderly mess of almost every genre of music and era out there, played on constant shuffle. It used to drive Hidai crazy. He likes a certain type of music (he calls it "alternative Rock". I call it "people shouting at you"), and to listen to his albums one at a time. It took him a long time to concede and accept that when we are all together, my playlist will be the one playing. I sometimes think this is the reason he likes working on the computer at night. Out of all the activities men can do alone at night, Hidai writes emails & documents and listen to his music. Even Ron has a playlist of his own since he was 6 years old. 

A couple of years ago we were going through some rough times financially, and we didn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, and as part of trying to believe it will be ok I created the playlist "Orli When Needed". At first it was rarely used, but somehow, slowly, it became our evening soundtrack. Every evening when we sit down to eat, will come the question - "which playlist to put on?" and the answer "Orli When Needed, because it's needed". It has become such a regular question at the start of the meal, that yesterday we were sitting to eat lunch and Yon looked at me and asked - mummy is it needed? It wasn't. The playlist has grown somewhat in the past year, mainly because Hidai said he is tired of listening to the same songs all the time, but for this exercise I've decided to give you the ten songs I listen to, when it's needed. And it usually is.

1. Temporary Home - Carrie Underwood. Makes me cry every single time. Every. Single. Time. Because this song, to me, is the symbol of all the ways I am failing my kids. Of being totally and utterly lost. Of searching. But it is also a symbol of going forward. In the time before we left Gibraltar I listened to it a lot, feeling like I am tearing my children from everything they know, and taking them to an unknown future. Feeling that they will never have a home that isn't temporary.

2. September - Daughtry. Because September is never an easy time for me with the house becoming empty, Jewish New Year (which we usually celebrate alone) and Autumn. But this song also belongs to the "before we left Gibraltar" period. It was a very tough time for our family, and not an easy choice to make. I really needed the "it was worth it in the end" line there to be true. 

3. What doesn't kill you (Stronger) Kelly Clarkson. Because it's how we live. What we teach the kids. And the single most important lesson in life. I do apologise to my neighbours for usually in every bad day I have, this song will be heard in a few blocks radius.

4. Just Breathe Pearl Jam. Because It's the only song from Hidai's favourite band I can listen to (and I actually love). And for the same reason it's the name of my blog. It really is what I tell myself every single day, and it's my constant wish, to some day be able to Just Breathe. 

5. Weightless - All Time Low. The one song that made us fly to London and watch an entire show together, for the first time in almost 10 years. Just to hear them preform this song. The clip doesn't do it justice. It was the theme song of our life for a while. In some days, it's still is. 

6. Many shades of Black - the Raconteurs. Because we learned that there really are many shades of black. And we've been through quite a few of them over the years. Because we try to take it as it comes and be thankful when it's done. 

7. Sweet Silver Lining - Kate Voegele. because I think every word in this song was written for me. To me. About me. If I had to choose one phrase to describe myself it will be from this song (unless I would choose Tolkien's "Not all those who wonder are lost") - 

"so many people are looking to me
To be strong and to fight but I'm just surviving
I may be weak but I'm never defeated
And I'll keep believing in clouds with that sweet silver lining"

8. Home - Daughtry. Because we don't have one. A home. A place where we belong. But because we also don't regret the life we chose for ourselves. It was another one of the songs we listened to on those dark days in Gibraltar, when we realized that we are destained to keep moving, that realising your dreams and living the reality of them is two different things, that the prices for our choices are high, and that we are each other's home.   

9. When You Say Nothing At All - Ronan Keating. Because it was true ten years ago when we chose this song to be the song that will be played when we walked down the (Jewish) aisle, and it is even more true today. 

10. Have I Told You Lately - Van Morrison. The first song we danced to at our wedding. Kitsch. Told you I am a secretly kitschy person. But how can you not absolutely love this song? For me, this song is the personification of love. It sums up so beautifully what I need to tell Hidai and my kids every single day. Ten years, and still every time I hear this song I get the urge to dance with Hidai.

There you have it. My ten songs for When It Is Needed. In my life today, they are needed a lot. Sometimes more than I would have liked. Writing this post took me back to that time when our future was so fragile, so bleak, so frightening, that I sometimes felt we will not pull through. That we will never be ok again. We did. We are. For me, music isn't the answer for everything, but it is the soundtrack to it and so much more. There were days music was all we had, in good times and bad times, music is a constant companion to our lives. It makes them better, easier, more bearable. It gives us a place to shout, to scream, to feel. Music is magic. it reminds us, day after day, that there is good and light and love. Even when it doesn't seems so.  
My life is still tough, sometimes unbearably so. Sometimes it seems it will never end. Trial after trial. Fall after fall. Hurdle after hurdle. But looking back reminded me that it really did not kill us, and it really did make us stronger, closer, more determined.

*No more kitsch. Next post, is business as usual.
** All these songs are my favourite because of their lyrics. But if you have a few minutes, and especially if you have a Special Child, you should check out Sara Barreiles's Brave. For the video clip.
*** I am not really sure how or if to tag anyone else, so I am leaving this one open to whom ever wants to create a Summer Playlist of his/her own.

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Dreadful Days

It started as a joke really. I wrote a post for my friend Jane's great linky "Small Steps - Amazing Achievements", a linky that celebrates our children's achievements every week. I aptly named my post Positivity is Overrated and stated that what I bring to the table, my blogging strengths if you will, are cynicism, self-deprecation & complaints. Jane, being the nice person that she is, did not ban me from ever returning. And people started responding with a"save me a place at your linky".
I went on to write a few more depressingly honest posts about life, loneliness and the lie of the "perfect", and people still continued to say there should be a place for this kind of posts.
To be honest, I am not really sure what "this kind of posts" these posts are. Are they about the lows we sink to when raising the kids? Are they about the tough days we go through with Special children? Are they about how hard our lives are? How guilty we feel? About all the ways we feel we fail our children, or partners, ourselves? I guess they are all this and more.
Life is complicated. Parenting is complicated. We all try to look on the bright side most times, to be upbeat, to be positive, to believe that everything is for the best. Most of the time it works just fine, and we skip along and enjoy life. But every once in a while, well, it seems like the sh*^&^t hits the fan, the other shoe drops and life just sits there and laugh at you. Every once in a while you have a dreadful day.
There are so many linkys out there looking for the bright and happy things in life, wanting to record all that is good and motivating. I applaud them, I love them, I link to them. But life isn't just those moments and days, and there should be a place for the other feelings. You can't, you shouldn't bottle it all inside and pretend it's not there. You should have a place to let it all out, and to know that you will get an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on, and a hug.
I want this linky to be this place.


I do have a few rules for this linky -
1. Link whatever you want, old or new, about anything you want. Except the sentence "I know there are people worse off than me". Yes, there probably are. But it doesn't mean you don't have a right to feel bad about your things.
2. Don't judge others. Everyone has a different dreadful day. Even if it is having to do laundry.
3. There is no place for patronising, belittling, or meanness. No "you should be grateful for what you have", no "other people have bigger problems" and no "I swear I love my kids".
4. Please visit other people and comment. We are here for the love and support.
5. Have fun :)


Life isn't just rose-coloured. It's multi-coloured. Seeing, acknowledging and loving all the colours doesn't make you negative. It just means you're not colour-blind.

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<a href="http://londondegani.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/dreadful-moments.html" title="Dreadful Days, Orli Just Breathe"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevVDlX3cNpt9j7BTia985W9E5pUa2q_Goyy7HezDtllylMQ6wckC0GuVb6a7G3vb1B96gEU2gFL_xYVYnqFz5a5m5ZOFA0sw5JYrasvQscvqLsafTJi53iz8omiwc__m6uQQ-6puDTuQ/s1600/dreadful+days+150.jpg" alt="Dreadful Days, Orli Just Breathe" style="border:none;" /></a></div>

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The Perfect Lie

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. I usually think Tolstoy exaggerated just a tiny little bit with this sweeping assessment of life, but sometimes, oh sometimes I think he nailed it. I was reading one of the more popular link collections out there today, an activity I usually regard as a treat, and today, about halfway through I started resenting them all. All those links to posts written by people I don't even know, who I am sure are perfectly lovely in real life, but who chose to write about their "perfect" - their perfect crafts, perfect life, perfect holiday. I read them all, looked at all their perfect pictures and in the end, all these happy families blurred into one and I just couldn't deal with it anymore. You see, it was the last straw. I have had too many close encounters with "perfect" this last few weeks. It's not that I mind positivity too much (as long as I don't have to practice it), it's the "perfect" that gets to me every single time.
People lie. It's a fact of life. Just like death and taxes. People lie for different reasons, some want to feel better about themselves, some want to feel their lives are better than yours, some just can't deal with the truth. The end result is the same though - they lie, their life ends up perfect, and you end up asking yourself - how the hell am I the only one who... You can fill in the blank, because it changes according to the specific need you have, but it works with money, health, children, special needs, loneliness, work, moving, holidays... And even knowing that, having seen people do it to my face, I still fall for it. I still finish a conversation with someone, or finish reading a post or a looking at a Facebook status and feel like it's just our lives that never seems to pick up from muddling through and get anywhere close to perfect. How is it, I ask no one in particular (yes, I talk to myself. Also to inanimate objects. Still gets no answers though, so it's all fine), how is it that everyone else move countries so easily? How is it that I take about a year and a half to start feeling I found my place? Do everyone else really find it all so easy? How can they all look so happy all the time? How is it everyone else's children are all interested in crafts all the time? Is it just mine who run away screaming when the paint and the glitter comes out of storage? How is it when they are asked "what do you do with your children on a rainy day?" everyone else's children don't spend hours on end on the iPad/phone/DS/WII/computer, but "whip out the crafts box"? How is it everyone else have the time to bake, craft, read and play with their children, work full time, be on social media, and write every day? Does everyone else really has less laundry than me? How is it that everyone else's children are all normal but mine? How is it that everyone else have activities planned all the time, and no one get stuck in the house, like me, because they couldn't find where to take the kids to? How is it that everyone else's life just seem so much easier? so much filled with nice things I can't afford? with holidays, and restaurants, and new clothes all the time? how is it everyone but me got to go on a holiday this year? And how is it that everyone else's holiday was perfect?
My August was planned to the tee. Even though we didn't get to go on holiday this year, it was supposed to be better than last year (when we just moved here. It was horrible. It rained all the time, we didn't know anyone, we didn't know the area, it was me & the kids all alone all day. And it was for 3 and a half months), it was supposed to be perfect. But it was planned for a better weather, a better financial situation, and a better composed us. All of which took a hit this last few weeks, and left us planning a trip to Ikea as the main attraction for Saturday. Don't get me wrong, I love Ikea. It's like my very own live Pinterest, and they carry the glasses we prefer to use, but really? buying new glasses in Ikea was not supposed to be the highlight of the week for me.
We are all so busy lying about our lives, hiding everything that isn't perfect, checking all the time how the world sees us, that we lose the good that comes out of telling the whole, real story. We are missing the help we can get and the help we can give. We are missing the real connection that comes from standing together. We are missing life. It's not judgement. It's me. It took me months to be able to utter the words "Ocular Albinism", it took me even longer to join support groups for parents who have kids with Albinism. It took me three years in University to admit I hate Economics. It took me a long time after my first pregnancy to admit aloud that I wasn't ready for another one, that I hated most of Ron's first year, that I loathed been pregnant, and that I have never in my life thought of any of this as "a magical journey of femininity". Do you need me now to say that I love my kids? Do I need to apologise? I won't. I am not good with apologies (giving them that is. I am pretty awesome in getting them). I will say this, we've had a few rough years, where we learned a few big life lessons about ourselves and about who will stand next to us when we fall. Then came Yon's Ocular Albinism diagnosis, and somehow made life even more precious. More complicated for sure, but also more dear. And I opened this blog and stopped. Stopped lying and hiding, and smiling when I want to scream. I stopped wasting my time and my energy on trying to appear anything more than just me. I stopped thinking that it defines me, that somehow it makes me less.
But still, every time I see this "perfect" it gets to me. I know it can't be true. But it looks so real. And I want to scream. And every single time Hidai reminds me that you can run, but you can't hide. That when you look at our Facebook page we look exactly like all the others. That everyone gets their share of misery and hardship. It has a very cool word play in Hebrew on the law of Conservation of mass, as in the bad things are a given mass, they cannot just disappear, so it can be dispersed in small doses over a long time, or dropped in one large dose sometime during life.
No one has a perfect life. No matter how hard they try to convince the world otherwise. Because there is no perfect life. There is no happy family that is just like another.
There is no shame in the imperfect, in the difficulties, in the rough moments. Because these are the places to find real love, real friends, real connections. These are the moments that give us the opportunity to grow. I always tell my kids, you can't learn if everything is easy. You need the tough things, you need to make mistakes. So why are we trying so hard to cover up and hide our own?

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Less Alone

Loneliness. It is a feeling we all have I guess, at one moment or another, and one of the hardest things to deal with, even today in the modern world, where everything looks so open and close and connected. Loneliness can still hit you anywhere, anytime and without warning. You can stand in a room full of people and feel totally alone. You can finish a visit to the doctors and feel all alone in the world. You can sit at the dinner table on a Friday evening, and feel lonely. Life is filled with lonely moments. Moments where you feel there is no one out there who cares, who understands, who've been through what you are going through. Life is full of moments where the dark hole of loneliness is all you can see, closing in on you.
Loneliness can be connected to so many areas of life. When you have financial problems, when you have health problems, when you have a Special child, when you move a town or a country. There are others, of course, but these are my lonely areas, things we've been through these last few years that made us stare loneliness in the face.

When we just left Israel and moved to Gibraltar I had so many of those moments, I remember the first time it hit me, that feeling of being utterly alone and lost. I was in Morrisons for my first big shop, the one that is intended to fill a new house, and I needed to choose toilet paper of all things. I just didn't know what to do. It seems so idiotic, like such a small thing, but I remember standing there for a good few minutes thinking - I've made a terrible mistake. I should never have left Israel. The moment passed, and I found a very good toilet paper to buy, but that feeling of being alone in the world never really completely went away. I used to have it every Friday evening, which, when we lived in Israel, was when we used to go to my parents for dinner (Friday dinner is a big thing for Jewish people). I used to have it every holiday we spent just us. I used to have it every year in September, when Autumn hits, Jewish New Year comes, and the kids go to school. Every year that came and went made those lonely moments fade a little more. You build your new - new friends, new traditions for Fridays, for holidays, for September. You toughen up and close your heart, just a little more, to not let the loneliness in.
And still there are the moments that sneak up on you, like when I read about the amount of time grandparents spend with their grandchildren, or not knowing a children song that everyone knows, or having a birthday with no family around, or when there is a bad doctors appointment, or when your baby can't breathe in the middle of the night and needs to be rushed to the A&E (to my parents, who are reading this and becoming anxious, it happened 3 years ago. It's an example. The kids are fine). Life is full of those tiny moments, and being an expat you feel them mixed together with a dash of guilt, because it was your choice. You could have stayed, but no. You decided to move, and now you can't really complain about it, because this feeling you have right now? That black hole of loneliness that is filling you? It's your fault. You are to blame for sitting alone at the holiday table, you are to blame for having no friends, you are to blame for the fact that nobody is talking to you at the school gate, you are to blame that you are standing in the toilet paper aisle crying over rolls of toilet paper.

The Morrisons. I don't have a photo of the toilet paper aisle.

Guilt, is also a very big thing with Jewish people. Even more than Friday dinners.
These moments of loneliness, for some, grow more and more. The need to be connected, to be a part of some group, the desire to have a "we" to belong to. That, together with the gap that is inevitable between the children's culture and the parents' one, is what drive most people to go "back home", or to form closed ethnic groups in the real and virtual worlds. Because sometimes the loneliness is just too much to bear.
For me it's a different story. I welcomed the loneliness, I still do most of the time. People, obligations and groups make me feel like I am suffocating, and being an expat makes all of that go away, and for me it makes me feel I can breathe. I love the long hours alone in the house, and the freedom that comes with the loneliness. I never wanted to be part of any "we" in particular, I don't enjoy groups (or most people), and I hate obligations of any kind. So we were never a part of any Israeli group, or Jewish group, or expat group. We were, are, mostly just us. And the eclectic "we" we build for ourselves. People that became our family. We had that when we lived in Gibraltar, and now when we moved  to London we have to build it all again. Building is a slow process. I mean, first of all you have to meet new people. Where do you meet new people when you are a thirty something stay-at-home mum? Then you have to like those people. And they have to like you. And then you have to start the long process of "befriending", which is a bit like dating - did they like us? why haven't they called? do you think we should have them over at ours? how many chances do we give them? We are married. We shouldn't have to date anyone. Or go to the gym. But that's for a different post.
After four years of living like this, the truth is we are used to it. Most of the time I don't really think about it. I have my blog, we have a tiny "we" here, and everyday life is usually so hectic around here that it trumps everything. But then I read an article about this Facebook group for Israeli mothers living in London (which, believe it or not, I am a part of. Not a participating part, but I am registered) and they talked about that loneliness, some of our "we" declared they are on their way out of London, the summer holiday is here and we found ourselves completely alone while everyone else were talking about grandparents and friends and shared holidays and the likes, I was feeling alone in the world because my blog wasn't going anywhere and Twitter hated me (read all about it in the last million posts), I felt lost with how to help Yon get ready for Reception, and how to help Ron use his giftedness, and a branch of Hidai's family were about to come over for a week in London.
We don't have a big family, both Hidai and I, but where my brother lives in London and my parents visit about 4 times a year, we don't get to see Hidai's side at all (unless we are in Israel, which does not happen often). We haven't seen this branch in about four years, when we made plans to meet them for breakfast on Saturday. This long period of time that has passed, combined with my trepidation of obligations, and our anxiety about how the kids will behave (they were too young to remember the last time we met Hidai's family, and they are too used to consider just us and my parents as their immediate family) and how Hidai's family will react to Yon (who, beside his glasses and hat, usually saves his worse behaviour for just these instances), all made us a bit nervous when Saturday morning came and we went to meet them at Borough Market.

As it happened, it was perfectly lovely. It's funny how you don't really think about time passing in connection to other people, and especially other people's children - you have a certain image you carry around, even if it's been four years. Even if you see current photos on Facebook. You still half except them to be 12. And they are not. They grew up to be very admirable young adults. We've had breakfast in a Spanish place that so reminded me of being in Gib - the waiters spoke little broken English, I ate a toast & tomato, that was less good than I am used to but still made me smile. And miss Gibraltar. The conversation was easy, they had a great connection with Ron (they were willing to talk football. He doesn't need more than that), and weren't judgmental about Yon (who played on the iPhone for most of the time).

Spanish toast

Then we toured the market, a place we've never been to and turned out to be a very nice food market for grownups but very not Yon suitable. He doesn't like places he doesn't know, crowded places, and dimly lit places. This market was all of those things. Hidai had to carry him part of the way and he was fine then, but he is becoming too heavy to carry long distances.

I got Baklava. it only cost me 3 pound each.

Next to the market there is a pirate ship apparently. A very big one.

Ship & boys

And then we went to see their hotel, let the kids run around a bit, and eat some chocolate.
All in all it was a lovely morning. A morning that made us feel, for one tiny moment, less alone.

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Gifted. Not always a gift.

There is a kind of shame when you try to write about a gifted child. The first thing people think when they hear you talk about your child being gifted is, he is not really gifted. You are just One Of Those Parents. No one says anything of course, they all just nod their heads, look at us funny and talk to us in a certain tone of voice. Probably feeling sorry for Ron, that he has parents who are not satisfied with what God gave them. The second thing people think, usually after they talk to Ron, is, really but he looks so normal. You know, not like any of those scary weirdos you imagine when you think maths-genius. The third thing they do is stare at him. Like he suddenly grew a second head. Like they see him for the first time. Like he is some kind of freak. Not all people go through all three stages of course. Some of them never leave stage one. In these situation Ron gets pity, and we get to have the added bonus of people looking down their noses at us. I found that having a gifted child is no different than having any other Special Needs child. But even while writing this here in my tiny corner of the web I can't stop feeling like I need to erase it, like I need to justify it, like I am over-dramatising it. I know what some of you are thinking now, especially if it's the first time you are reading my blog - What do I know about Special Needs? Who gives me the right to compare the two? Every parent to a "real" Special Needs child would tread places with me in a nano-second. Rich people's problems. I am not one to justify myself usually. On the contrary, I love to leave things ambiguous, to go with the "never explain, never apologise" thing. But not here. Years of shame demand that I explain that yes, I do know, I do know disabilities, I do know everything that comes along with a Special Needs child. And still, if I am completely honest with you, we hide Ron's giftedness even more than we hide Yon's Ocular Albinism.

People might not understand Yon's condition, but at least they don't think we are imagining it. You see, we didn't have Ron tested. Ah, I can see the look you are giving the screen now, that look from stage one, the one that says it all - One Of Those Parents. Trust me we thought about it, repeatedly, mainly to have a piece of paper that we could wave at everyone we meet and say - you see? Told you so! But we didn't. In Israel, land of tests and diagnosis, he would have gotten tested at school (weather we wanted it or not) when he turned 8, and if we wanted to, we could have gotten him tested much earlier. But here it's different, it is up to us to decide if we want to. And we do. And we don't. Because when you parent a gifted child you are trying to find the same answers to the same questions as with any Special child - how do I give my child all the help he needs, and at the same time make his childhood as normal as possible? The fact that the needs are different when dealing with a gifted child does not mean that they don't exist, or are less difficult to satisfy. How much do you push? How much do you advance his learning? Is it okay for a year 3 pupil do a year 6 workbook? a year 8? How do you make sure he still likes going to school? Is the fact that he can achieve something intellectually, means he should achieve it? Which kind of pressure will an IQ test put on him? What if he discovers he is "only" top 5% and not top 2% or 1%? How do we give him everything while escaping the labels? How do we preserve a "normal" childhood for him, and still let him study the things he wants to? How do we teach him to work hard to achieve, when it all comes so easy to him? How do we teach him how work correctly, when he doesn't need those stages? How do we teach him IQ isn't everything? That it's not the most important thing?

We chose football (he chose football. We chose to make it into a life lesson), reading (as there is no such thing as too much reading) and he is now finished the first book of the Lord Of The Rings (made my geeky heart swell with pride), and the Bond 11 verbal & nonverbal booklets, because they will teach him to think in different ways than he is taught in school, and we'll get advancement and challenge but without teaching him secondary school material. It has not been easy, and today, after I thought we've made excellent progress, I heard the sentence I never thought I'd hear from him "I am not good enough". Ah, the parental guilt reared its ugly head. Those nagging questions that are there all the time started screaming at me. Did I push too much? Did I try to reach past his limit? Why do I do that? Why can't I leave him alone and let him cruise through school? It's because I secretly am One Of Those Parents. You know, the ones that stand behind their children when they are photographed to the newspapers with the headline "smarter than Einstein". I push because I want to showoff my child. And now I pushed too hard and I broke his spirit. His love of learning. He will hate me forever.
What do I do now? How do you recover from a sentence like that? How do you make someone understand that the fact that they are better than good enough doesn't mean they don't have to work hard? Should we let him quit or not?
Not. of course not. Because if we let him quit, what will we be teaching him? How will that help his self-esteem? How is it even possible that he has low self-esteem? We talked and we talked and we talked, we explained all the things we explained a thousand times before. But it's still a very fine line we walk with him, trying to teach him that while he has to try, he doesn't have to get a 100% right, and it's okay to fail, but that you should never let failure be the endnote, you never give up. Yeah, I know it's a tough lesson, full of conflicting messages and hard life choices.
Being gifted is not always a gift. I look at Ron and I see he has a very hard burden to carry, one that doesn't let him rest even for a second, one that no matter how hard we try will never let him have a normal childhood, one that defines who he is. One that he loves and hates at the same time.

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Positivity is Overrated

It's 10pm on Tuesday, and I've been staring at the screen for the past hour trying to figure out what to do. Like every week Tuesday is the time for me to write a post that will go straight to Jane from Ethan's Escapades for her "Small Steps Amazing Achievements" Wednesday linky. I know I am not really committed to Jane, and really I don't even know Jane except through the blog world. For all I know she thinks I am an idiot and the worst writer she's ever seen. But I know that tomorrow morning when Jane will tweet me to say that the linky is open, if I don't have a post to add I will feel bad. I will feel as if I let her down. So here I am, racking my brain, trying to find what to write for tomorrow, and I have nothing. I mean how can you find something positive to write about every single week? And it's not just Jane on Wednesday, on Monday I have "Magic Moment" and on Thursday "Reasons to be cheerful". Really? Every single week? How can people be so positive all the time? And especially in relation to the kids? How is it that other kids are doing positive things every single week? I am not a positive person. If you ever read any of my posts, you already know that I spend 95% of the post dwelling on the negative, and then throw in a positive twist so it will fit the bill. Or if I could manage it, I try to combine all of them into one post, and even that one isn't really what you might call a little ray of sunshine. This week is the worst so far. Last week I skipped Thursday because it was so bad I told Hidai I am on my way to HR to hand in my resignation, and after he reminded me that I work for me (and HR are the kids), I just went underground until Monday. 

We did have a lovely weekend, so I managed a semi-funny half-optimistic post, that included my war with August, dinosaurs, "the wild" and even had doughnuts. Nobody read it. Apparently nobody likes my humour. Or doughnuts. 

Doughnuts. 

Unfortunately, Monday & Tuesday did not go down well with the kids, and the only amazing achievement I could think of from the top of my head is me not banishing them to their room for most of the day. 

Kids. Not behind closed doors

Yon didn't do anything resembling an achievement this week, unless you consider his amazing ability to not stop talking even while sleeping an achievement. I know he does. Other than that, since last week all that changed is the fact that we stopped his 2pm nap, because he won't be able to nap when he goes to Reception in September, and also because to be honest he stopped falling asleep awhile ago, but he still needed his rest and so did we. But now we decided he should get used to not having a 2 hours quiet rest time a day. A decision that will be rewarded in September, but at the moment we regret daily. So not such an achievement. 

Yon. Trying his best to look innocent

Ron, bless him, is in a constant state of get-me-out-of-here, combined with growling and nonstop complaining. It is an achievement I guess to be able to complain about anything and everything. We take them out for a day of fun activities, we get "I didn't have time to read today". We stay at home we get a "we haven't left the house again". We play the WII together I get a "when are we going to play Scrabble . We do a puzzle together I get a "but we didn't play the WII today". Amazing. On top of that we are now going through a stage of unwillingness to make an effort at anything, and dealing with any hurdle is done through shouting, crying, and.. You guessed it - complaining. It is for a different post, but sometimes parenting a gifted child is not all that easy. Especially when you are trying to teach him to deal with not succeeding, with not knowing all the answers, with the need to work systematically and hard to succeed. What can I say, today after I made him cry for the second day in a row because I wouldn't let him quit and wouldn't give him the answer, I definitely felt like it was a Hallmark moment, what an amazing achievement, and a proud parenting moment. 

Ron. Pre-crying

The truth is, I wanted to write about myself, but I wasn't sure if it's in accordance with Jane's rules, and after all, I did make an 8 years old cry. Twice. After said 8 years old declared happily that he saw a marked improvement from yesterday, gave himself a 10 in puzzle-doing (no. We usually refrain from marking the kids on playing) and that he loves himself best, but also likes me, I thought about it and decided that after that intro Jane will probably banish me from her linky anyway, so I should just go for it. 

a 10 in puzzle doing

Me. I've made a small step. And an amazing achievement this past week.  
I've written my Lost on Twitter post last Monday. It was about how bad I am at all this blogging thing, and especially in the social media arena. Since then I decided to not be a hypocrite (not an obvious one at any rate) and try to improve my social standing. I did manage to not get it even lower, so that is something I reckon. I still feel like the outcast on Twitter, like everyone has friends and people who care if they come to a blogging event and I don't, like I am over-trying, like I will never be one of those "I don't know how that happened" people. I find it all so hard, so demanding, so out of my comfort zone. But I tried, and if it all goes well (and assuming none of them read this post and changes her mind) I will have a chance to reccomend 5 blogs I love over at Love all Blogs in October, and I will be a guest blogger at 3 Children and It, and you can look for me on MUM Network in my first post there sometime this month. I even have a Pinterest account fresh from today. 
All I have left now is to find the answer to a question from a blogging course I'm taking, what is my blogging strength? What do I bring to the table?
As it seems, where everyone else brings happiness, positivity and sunshine, I bring cynicism, self-deprecation and complaints. 
So watch out for my first "dreadful moments linky".

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August and Dinosaurs

I tend to have a relationship with months. I tend to personify them, and to be honest I am very close to giving them pet-names. It always seemed to me that some months are there just to make you feel bad, to torment and annoy you. Like some people. But we are talking about months. August is one of those months (just for clarification, August this year started July 24th, when the kids went off school). It doesn't matter how much I try to establish a connection, a rapport, even friendship, with it - it ends up exactly the same - with me feeling defeated, deflated and depressed. I am not really sure why that is. I used to think, when Ron was young, that it must mean I am a terrible mum for not enjoying his summer holiday, but he grew up, and became easier to entertain, and still it stays. I used to think it was because of the Israeli special heat-humidity combination, but we've moved to Gibraltar and now London, and it stays. I used to think it's because of lack of planning, or over planning, or going on holiday or not going on holiday, or because Hidai isn't home, or because he is home, etc., etc., etc. You see what I mean, over the years I've tried everything I could think of, changed all the parameters, and still - August hates me. Well, what can I say? I am not a big fan also.
But this year, this year I was on a mission. I will defeat it. For once, I will end up victorious, and August will end up with its tail between its legs. I worked very hard to come up with the perfect plan, I thought I've found the winning strategy, I was even foolish enough to blog about it. I forgot the golden rules - don't make plans (I learned that one the hard way over the last few years. Plans tend to lead to bad things), and don't poke the bear. Or tease the month in this situation. As it stood on Thursday, the day I started this post (in my head, but it still counts), the score was - August 1, Orli 0.
The weather went to hell, with rain throughout most of last week, the money that was supposed to cover our plans got delayed, Hidai's work got busier, I felt lost with the blog and fell behind on everything I wanted and needed to accomplish, the kids got bored and started mis-behaving and over-complaining. By Thursday the kids and I haven't left the house in 9 days, and life looked totally and utterly hopeless.

Friday wasn't any better. The weather forecast was great, so I planned to take the kids to the library (an activity we've been trying to do for a week, with no success) and then food shopping in Golders Green (there is nothing better for lifting the mood than good food). But the weather outside apparently did not read the forecast, and it rained. Good food is one thing, needing to walk twenty minutes with two kids and two enormous bags of food is a different matter. So in 10 days of summer holiday, we've managed to get to the library. Once.

 

That is why, on Saturday morning we decided that enough is enough. In Hebrew you say that difficulties are meant to check how serious you are (but you say it with less words), I always try and tell Hidai that no one can call us serious. But we are also not quitters. So we left the house. Twice. On Sunday (yes I know I started with Sunday, but go with me here) we went to pick our own fruits. Yes, I went in to the wild. Okay, so Parkside farm isn't really "the wild", but it had dirt and bees and greens. Wild. It's a really nice outing, and gave us the chance to let the kids see where food comes from before the Tesco, the chance to pick (and eat) really good strawberries, and the chance to meet friends and have a lovely day. Just one word of caution - if you don't have a car, be prepared for a long walk. It's at least 20 minutes walk, probably more, from the bus / tube you will need. Also, if you are allergic to bees, don't go. There are so many of them there, and the kids were not happy about it (okay, I wasn't happy. The kids were a bit hysterical).

On Saturday morning we got up and went to play mini golf, and not any mini golf - a dinosaurs mini golf. It only took us two tubes, one train and a 20 minutes walk to get there. Easy peasy. We don't have a car, because we live in the middle of London, we never go anywhere that isn't a tube ride away, and we are still uncomfortable with this whole wrong-side-of-the-road-driving thing. It works for us, except when arriving in suburbia. The mini golf itself (after we drank some iced-coffee and the kids ate their mandatory chocolate muffin) was a lot better than I hoped for. It's been so many years since the last time Hidai and I played, we enjoyed the nostalgia, and I enjoyed the fact that my strategy (hit the ball as hard as you can in the general direction of the hole) was working, and the kids enjoyed the dinosaurs, the crocodiles, and the colourful golf balls. It took us some time to finish all the 18 holes because a few of them were really hard (they all have obstacles and weird shapes and fun stuff like that), and the kids were a bit tired by the time we were done and started heading home.

 

 


The 20 minutes walk back to the train did not look promising. But then, we started walking and discovered that right outside the golf course you can pick blackberries (real, live, uncultured ones. Like when we were kids),

and when we crossed the road in a different place (the Citymapper app, which is usually great, originally sent us to risk our lives in the middle of the junction), we found ourselves standing in front of a Krispy Kreme. Now never mind the fact that the kids had fun and behaved excellently, never mind the fact that we all had lovely day, that I won (not that we were keeping score), that the weather was perfect, that we had an adventure. We found doughnuts. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the pure definition of magic. 

August 1 Orli 2.

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