Saturday, April 16, 2011

If I prayed...

Or if I even truly believed in a higher power, I hope I could be as eloquent and funny as the glorious Ms. Tina Fey.  I'm not usually one to cut and paste like this, but there's no way I could write anything nearly as fabulous as this:


First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
(OK, as someone with her fair share of ink, I cannot judge and will not hold tattoos against my daughter. But I do hope that if she chooses to tat herself up, that she puts lots of thought into what she wants permanently emblazoned on her person).

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a B.itch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that S.hit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

-An excerpt from Tina Fey's new book -Bossypants, 2011

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Growing up Jewish

One of my best friends, Julie, sent me a goofy email about growing up Jewish, and I figured I'd cut and paste with comments...some of this stuff doesn't apply, but some of it does, and I figure it'll give me a chance to see what chords it strikes with regards to raising Eleanor.  It's a bit on the long side, so I'm thinking i might stretch it into a few posts...

Growing up Jewish:

If you are Jewish, and grew up in city with a large Jewish population, or are gentile with Jewish friends or associates, the following will invoke heartfelt memories, so read on.........


The only good advice that your Jewish mother gave you was:"Go! You might meet somebody!"
    I never dated Jewish boys. Seriously. I had a 2 week 'relationship' with a boy with a green mohawk my Sophomore year in college, but he was allergic to my sweaters that my mom made. Destined for failure. The only good thing that came of it, honestly, was that I was able to tell my family "Hey, I tried".
     

Every Saturday morning your father went to the neighborhood deli (called an "appetitizing store") for whitefish salad, whitefish "chubs"), lox (nova if you were rich!), herring, corned beef, roast beef, cole slaw, potato salad, a 1/2-dozen huge barrel pickles which you reached into the brine for, a dozen assorted bagels, cream cheese and rye bread (sliced while he waited). All of which would be strictly off-limits until Sunday morning.

Bagels and lox were tradition for sure.  And here in Canada, the bagels aren't the same as what I'm used to. I've been a vegetarian for a long time, so I don't really miss the lox anymore, but I will go so far as to import "real" bagels from NYC.  When living in NC, I did this a few times too. And when in graduate school, with a particularly tough case of TMJ, my doctor told me "avoid bagels", and it just didn't make sense. Bagels are one of the few foods my people do right!! Ellie will be raised with bagels. No doubt about it.  She will probably even be raised with my prejudices regarding what makes for a GOOD bagel (no raisins/blueberries, even in the cream cheese; fluffy, not dense; she will know what a schmear of cream cheese is...)

Every Sunday afternoon was spent visiting your grandparents and/or other relatives.
My grandparents moved down to FL, but not til after my great-grandparents did.  I was lucky enough to know 3 of my great grandparents on my mom's side. Nana Sally lived til I was about 14. Nana Sophie and Grampa Abe (Lipshitz) til I was in my 20s.  There are several stories, but I feel like that belongs in its own post...

You experienced the phenomenon of 50 people fitting into a 10-foot-wide dining room hitting each other with plastic plates trying to get to a deli tray.
Hasn't everyone?


You thought pasta was stuff used exclusively for Kugel and kasha with bowties.
Ugh. I hated kasha. I won't make Ellie eat that, or chopped liver. There are several foods in Jewish culture that are just plain icky.

You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven.
This applied to Nana Sally. I think she shrunk to about 4'8"?? But with a rack you could stack encyclopedias on.


You never knew anyone whose last name didn't end in one of 5 standard suffixes (berg, baum , man, stein and witz).  
It still amazes my husband when I tell him a particular actor or actress is Jewish just by their name...or more often but what their name WAS before they changed it <grin> But after my stint in Hebrew school, I knew plenty of non-Jewish folks.  I feel that I might have a hard time finding other Jews to introduce Eleanor to as she grows up, which is odd. I'd like to her to have an idea of some of this stuff without me being the one to instill it...

You were surprised to discover that wine doesn't always taste like cranberry sauce.
Maybe someday we'll do a Seder, just as a kind of sociologic experiment...Hiding matzoh? Well, I think the dog would find it before any children in this house...but the glasses upon glasses of Manischewitz , even when diluted with seltzer...*shiver*...Though I suppose it's the only way to dull the senses enough to get through a 3-4 hour meal with family...


You can look at gefilte fish and not turn green.
I actually used to like gefilte fish, even without the hot pink horseradish (courtesy of some well-placed beets)...But I don't think I like it enough to MAKE it in our vegetarian house, and the stuff that comes in the glass jars in the Kosher section of the market just look nasty...Perhaps Ellie will be spared...

You can understand Yiddish but you can't speak it.
There are some words that, i have to agree, have no good English equivalent.  Though I will make sure Eleanor KNOWS that these words are in a different language.  I grew up with them just as part of my vocabulary and didn't know that not everyone would understand me when using Yiddish in day to day conversation...

You know how to pronounce numerous Yiddish words and use them correctly in context, yet you don't know exactly what they mean. Kaynahurra.
Yea.  Very true. Thank goodness for the internet, and I've been able to look most of them up.

OK I'm going to post and then return to this later to finish up...Must go take advantage of a napping baby. Now that she's walking, I don't get much down time!!  She started officially walking last Monday and has been on the go ever since!

Eleanor walking

Ellie ready to plotz after her photo shoot with her friends

A maidel mit a kleidel (a girl in her new dress)