Jewy Jewenstein

Tonight we're going to try our hand at being Jewish. There's a pizza party and bonfire to celebrate the uh, Simchat Torah, given by a local liberal ultra-reform Jewish community group, of which a friend of mine is currently president and sneakily persuasive in recruiting members. Plus I am a sucker. A curious sucker who would like to see if I can find the right communal fit for my Jewish ass because I've always wondered if there's a place in Jewish life for me. I am dragging myself and Bryan and the kids there despite my Teflon-like reaction to pretty much all organized religions.

As a Hebrew school drop-out (no Bat Mitzvah day, for me, ba da da da...) I flinch around practicing Jews. I flinch out of guilt. Jewish guilt. I used to hit the high holies with my parents when I was little but my Jewish education ended with my parents' divorce. Even though I was dragged to temple a few times in my youth, my parents did not love worshipping God. There was no passion to pass down to the next generation. It just didn't happen for me.

soldiering on

My son, like me, is of a dichotomous mind. In the photo above, he's running to retrieve a discarded grocery bag so we can throw it away. All his idea. In the current moment however, he is downstairs howling because Daddy and Mommy are not capitulating to his begging whining pleadings to help him clean up his room, which consists of picking up tiny trinkets, depositing them in jumbo yogurt containers and shoving the lot in his bottom dresser drawer. We know he is capable of doing this and until he cleans up, no TV.

robust traits

Hamish finally returned to daycare yesterday and I was afraid he'd fall apart with separation anxiety. Not me though. I was ready! Turns out he couldn't wait to get back, and played with his friend Arianna the whole time. Hamish likes to correct my pronunciation of Arianna's name. He also likes to boss his friends and remind them when to clean up and to follow the rules. Sometimes he gets very frustrated and tries to physically place his friends in line.

hebrew school dropout

Is it Sukkoth? I dropped out of Hebrew school so I don't know these things, but I think I heard something on NPR about it. Because parking rules are suspended! Hoorah. This calls for the story of me getting picked up by a Hasidic Jew. At least I like to think so.

It was Rosh Hashana. I had just parked the Camry in front of my building and hauled my daughter, in her car seat, into the ugly and unfashionable Universal stroller frame. An even uglier minivan pulled up and a Hasidic fellow leaned across the filthy front seat and asked me where the nearest gas station was. Sexy. I looked down the street. Was he headed toward Bay Ridge or Park Slope? There were gas stations either way. I was stumped, and told him so.