I have a wedding to attend on Thursday. A very close friend of mine is getting herself hitched and we are all very excited to kick up our heels and celebrate with her and her new hubby. It is going to be awesome.

I wanted to have something new to wear, because, well, I wanted something new. I am perfectly aware I don’t need anything. I have a few fallback options in the closet, but I wanted to at least go and see what is available. After all, it is holiday season, and there are lots of party dresses on sale.

But what I failed to be notified about was that all of these party-going-women supposedly have the most toned arms ever, the most lovely shoulders, the most perfect cleavage and the longest legs, not forgetting the most perfect figure. Oh, and they also don’t mind being freezing cold in the middle of December! Seriously, every dress was either strapless, or with one shoulder strap, very short, very tight and very low cut. Leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. One sneeze and the dress could fall off!! Are there no women out there that want to wear sleeves? Or wear a longer dress or skirt? That don’t want to show their exact chest acreage?

Finally I found something almost modest – only it was for larger women. (Being skinny does bite sometimes.) Found something else that I could tzniusify (make modest) – three hundred buckaroos. No thank you. I left the malls empty handed. 5 malls. One woman. Not one dress or outfit that would have been perfect. And because I didn’t get the outfit, no shoes were bought.

I shall have to wear something I have worn before. Now I have to make that decision. Black or navy? Can I dance in comfort in it? Which shoes? Which purse?

Yeah I know, this should be my biggest problem….Amen!

So darling KoD, what shall we do with the money I saved today by not buying myself something pretty and new??

Edited to add – these are the two outfits to choose from :

Do you know what documents you need to travel out of the country with? Other than a passport that is valid for the next 6 months? Most people don’t. Being prepared can ease a lot of the stress one can potentially face at airports and border crossings. Some of this I have learned the hard way, some is just common sense. I have never regretted bringing a couple of file folders with me with potentially relevant documents.

Even when my ex and I were still married, if one of us travelled with the kids without the other parent, we made sure that the non-travelling partner took with a letter of permission to prove that the other parent is aware of where the children are and with whom. Now that we are divorced and I have custody, I still make sure every time I leave the country with the kids I get a letter from him. Most times they do not ask to see it, but they have asked a few times. You must always ensure that there is a contact phone number just in case. If you are travelling with children, and you are divorced, it is a good idea also to bring with a copy of your judgment of divorce that specifies custody. I have been asked to show it a time or two.

Because I have started the immigration process, I travel with copies of all the relevant forms. Just to back myself up if they want proof.

I bring my recent utility bills – it proves that I maintain a residence in Canada, and therefore probably do not pose a risk of staying in the destination country longer than my brief planned visit. I have had to show these at the border crossing a couple of months back. A recent pay stub is good too, along with a mortgage statement or a copy of a rent receipt.

If you are driving, you need your license and registration, and if it is NOT your car, you need a letter of permission from the owner of the car along with the registration for the car. The letter should state the license plate number, until when you have permission to drive it, and provide a contact number.

I remember once flying through the USA to get somewhere, and not having a ticket back into Canada as I had a friend that was going to drive me upon my return. At the airport in NY they gave me a hard time because I could not prove I had plans to return to Canada. A return ticket helps avoid that hassle.

If you are entering a foreign country for a conference or for a work purpose, you must be prepared to show proof. They have every right to quiz you on why you want to come into their country.

I also shlepp birth certificates (the long ones, that prove I am my kids mom), and my marriage certificate – I have nothing in my married name yet. In Quebec one doesn’t adopt one’s husband’s last name legally, and I have yet to be official in the States, so if for some reason I have to prove I am who I say I am, well, I have the marriage certificate to prove it.

Is there anything I have left out? What documents do you travel with “just in case”?

My 7 year old said “Ima, how did you learn to be a good Ima?”

My answer “I practiced on your older brothers!”

כבד את אביך ואת אמיך - Honour your father and your mother

We are commanded to honour our parents, so that we may live a long life. What is a child who is abused by a parent supposed to do? This is the fifth of the TEN commandments, the most important laws that we have. It isn’t a law to sneeze at. But if a parent hurts and abuses and causes pain to that child, is a child still commanded to honour their parent? What does honour mean in this circumstance? Does it mean honour the fact that they brought you into this world? Does it mean that when they are old and sick and dying you have to take care of them? Does it mean that you need to make them a part of your life, a life you have struggled to live on your terms despite the abuse that made it difficult to strike out on your own?

I have often wondered about this, having known several people who had very tough childhoods riddled with abuse – physical and emotional and every shade in between. I also find it interesting that we are not commanded to love our parents.

So I pose this question to my JewCrew – how do you interpret this commandment when it comes to a parentally abused child?

It is NOT a forum for any commenter to leave disgusting Lashon Horah and Rechilut (gossip) about people who don’t even know they are being talked about in such a disturbing manner. Madame Commenter, I deleted your comment and blocked your IP address and you will not be welcome to comment on any of my posts. Who do you think you are using MY blog to further your own revolting ends? What made you think I would be open to this kind of vitriol against one of my own people?

Get your own damn blog and leave mine the Hell alone!!

I said goodbye to my KoD this morning, tucked my heart into his pocket, and began the 6 hour trek back to Montreal, to my babies. Ahem. Sorry. My big boys. My Boybies (that works for me).

The drive went really well, I didn’t even cry when the mushy romantic songs came on the radio. Took a concerted effort, but I did it. The roadwork has been finished up, so there was no going slow…the weather was perfect and I made excellent time.

I get to the US / Canada border and they have closed it off except for one booth a few yards before the usual line of booths at the Lacolle border crossing. It seems they are prescreening cars before allowing them to get to the regular border crossing booths. There is a much more obvious presence of border guards than usual.

No problem, I have my landed immigrant card, my passport, I do this a bajillion times a year. Piece of cake. Right? Noooo.

The cars ahead of me showed passports and sailed through. Initially the border guard did not take my passport from me. Started asking me the regular questions. All was fine until he asked me who I had been to see. I said my husband. Then he asked for the passport. He started quizzing me on the status of my marriage, who lives where, how often we see each other. Meanwhile his cohort was walking around my car peering in windows etc.

They asked me to pull over to the side, ma’am.

Who owns your vehicle? My neighbour.

Your neighbour lets you drive his car? Yes sir.

What does he drive? One of his other cars, sir. I have a letter authorizing me to use this vehicle, sir, would you like to see it?

I also told him he could check in the computer that I cross the border all the time with this car. He did so. And I was right. Wow.

Then he asks me, why are you not driving your own vehicle? I so wanted to say “because you idiots won’t let me drive my brand spanking new Town and Country Touring minivan with US plates into Canada (More info here) so it has to stay in our garage in Monsey collecting dust, and I have to drive this freaking rust bucket that’s older than I am, just so I can see my husband. That’s why the freaking hell I am not driving my own vehicle, rectal orifice!!” But instead, I replied sweetly, “because I don’t have one.” (May God forgive me for the lie, but I wanted to get out of there)

The guys were pounding on the panels of the car, looking underneath it, in the spare tire, pulling my suitcases apart. Looking in my make up kit, holding my excedrin bottle up to the light.

“What does your husband do in the states?”

“Where did you meet him?”

“What’s his name, address?”

“What company does he work for?”

“How much money does he give you?”

“What’s his salary”

“Did he give you anything to bring back?”

“How much child support and alimony do you get?”

“Where are your children?”

“Why did you leave them for the weekend?”

“Who has custody of your children? Prove it” (I carry my divorce and custody agreement with me whenever I cross the border)

“What’s your profession?”

“How do you pay the bills if you are a stay at home mom?” I answered “with difficulty”. He left it alone, smart man, because I was about to get ugly up in his face. They then started in again on the immigration questions. What? My answers were going to change?

Then I unwittingly caused some trouble for myself. I raised my left hand to smooth back my hair. My engagement ring caught the sun. They spent five minutes quizzing me on the provenance of the diamond on my finger. Do I have proof on me where it came from? Uh…no. Who carries that with them? If I was smuggling diamonds would I be so stupid as to wear it on my finger? They looked at my other rings too. Asked about those as well.  Asked what the pendant I wear means. I wear a gold letter “Hey” (fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet that starts off my name) that my great uncle made for me decades ago. No certificate of provenance for that either.

I was shaking. I knew I had nothing contraband on me, nothing I shouldn’t have, no drugs, tobacco or alcohol. No weapons. I was coming back into Canada, my home for the last fifteen and a half years, and they made me feel so very guilty. Of what, I have no clue. I was sweating and shaking. They had me standing by the side of the road for nearly 30 minutes while they quizzed me back and forth, both guards with hands resting on the butts of their weapons. They had a team go over the car. I know they were just doing their job, but come on, I so do not fit the profile of a terrorist or a drug smuggler. I am just a mom. That’s it that’s all.

Eventually they let me go. I had to sit in another line of cars for 30 minutes until I finally was able to cross the border. By the time I crossed I had calmed down. But now I am on a slow burn. Why did they pull me over? Did I fit a certain profile? Was it anti-Semitic? Why did they start to freak out when I said my husband lived in NY and I live in Montreal? Is this going to happen now every time I cross the border? Am I red flagged? Do I dare do the border crossing thing again? I am so sick of this back and forth, and of the border sagas. It’s time for those flippin’ visas to come already.

My children are the best!! No really! They are! Those of us with children adore them and boast about them and know that they are the best kids on the planet. They do everything better, faster, they are stronger, more handsome, more everything than anyone else’s kids. Ok, you and I know that they are just kids, they are human, they mess up occasionally, and are really just your average children BH. We all like to boast occasionally and show off pictures and discuss milestones. It’s what parents do. No one is a more hands on mother than I. No one is prouder of her sons’ achievements than I. But I can talk about other things and other subjects, and I do. Often. And I enjoy being a person other than “Ima”.

We have some friends who it seems all they can talk about is their kids. When you relate any story about anything they find a way to tie it in with an anecdote about their kids. Anywhere you went on vacation, their kids went there, or knew someone who did. A new restaurant you went to – their kids wanted to try it. Every single conversation you have with them has to revolve around their kids. There is more to me than just being a mom. I love my kids with an endless passion. I do. However I don’t need to inject their awesomeness into every single conversation.

It’s come to the point that we don’t want to be around this couple any more. We can be talking politics or religion and every comment leads back to their children. Their children are smarter, brighter more accomplished that any other person in the world, apparently. You and I both know it isn’t true. Maybe deep down they feel that their kids have grown up and flown the coop, and therefore they have separation anxiety – the parents that is! But it seems every time they build up their kids in a conversation, it denigrates our kids. If I am telling over something funny that my kids said or did, their kids did or said something funnier. Like it’s a competition or something.

Look, I am not going to pretend that when we go out with other couples, that we don’t talk about the kids. We do. But in passing, or to tell one or two funny anecdotes. The subject of children does not overwhelm the conversation.

These people are educated professionals who have full lives. I wonder why it is that they cannot stop themselves interjecting their progeny into every discussion. They are wonderful people as individuals, and are more than just these kids’ parents. I want to tell them that their kids are great kids, but no more special than anyone else’s. They haven’t accomplished the impossible or found a cure for cancer, or won citizen of the year awards. They are just average grown up kids. Period.

It just stuck in my craw recently. Do you think there would be a point in telling them they are pushing people away with their obsessive talk about their kids?

What is the best way to deal with bullies, when you are in a grown up environment? At the schools we send our kids to, we are all told there is zero tolerance for bullying, any child that bullies another will face major consequences.

But what about the grown-up world? What consequences do the bullies face? I was recently verbally bullied by someone who is supposed to know better. I was subjected to the most horrible string of invectives and slights on my character (or lack thereof, according to this person). Because this was a person in a position of authority, I felt unable to fight fire with fire. I unfortunately needed something from this individual, and he was the only one with the power to grant it to me. I have never been spoken to in such a disgusting and loud manner. I have never had someone question my integrity as a person, as a wife, as a mother, as a Jew, all in one screamed breath. I was horrified at being spoken to with such obvious disregard, and frustrated that I was unable to defend myself throughout this diatribe as every time I opened my mouth to speak I was yelled at.

I wish I could go into specifics, but I cannot, I have to protect the guilty. But I do want to know, if you would have been in a similar situation, how would you have handled it? What is the best way to stand up to bullies? If no one stands up to them how are they ever going to learn that they are wrong? Can they ever learn that this is not the way to behave?

How does one define tzniut (modesty)? The truth is in everyday Jewish parlance it’s more or less taken to mean the way one dresses. Elbows and knees are supposed to be covered as are the collarbones and all places in between. Some say women’s bare legs are supposed to be covered by hose. Some say not. Some say tzniut includes women not wearing trousers, some disagree. Different sections of religious Judaism define it their way and within those sections, individuals define it personally sometimes (as I do).

It can also refer to one’s behaviour too. In this instance tzniut can mean not drawing attention to oneself. For example: I was once in a store and a whole bunch of teenage girls from the local ultra-religious girls’ school came in. They were all wearing long skirts and long sleeved shirts, their hair was tied back modestly, no make up on. They were dressed in a modest manner, but they drew attention because they were loud and obnoxious and fooling around in a manner that was not modest at all and totally inappropriate. It seems as if we expect better behaviour from people who dress more modestly. Which is a total fallacy but that is a post for a different day.

I grew up Modern Orthodox, wearing trousers and short sleeves. I lived in my jeans. I miss wearing jeans. They were part of my uniform growing up. Came home from school, threw off the grey long skirt, the grey jumper and the white shirt, pulled on the jeans and a sweatshirt and was good to go. I was comfortable. You are never as comfy as when wearing jeans or sweatpants. You cannot just lay about comfortably in a skirt, even if it’s a long denim one. You just are more aware of your behaviour. Which is kind of the whole point I suppose.

Someone explained it to me like this , when you go to a wedding, or a party, or some kind of simcha (joyous event) and you dress up, you feel different. You are careful how you sit, how you move, because you are wearing your finest clothes and you don’t want to wrinkle them or spoil them. You behave in a more dignified manner. We are always in front of God so we are supposed to stand to attention and be aware of where we are.

Well, that’s all well and good, but you cannot be stiff all the time. You have to let your hair down a bit. You have to be able to be comfortable in your own home at least. I don’t know, I don’t think I subscribe to that philosophy.

I have a lot of issues with conformity. I don’t like being boxed in, being told what to do. I am a dafkanik…tell me to do something and I want to do the opposite. I have written previously on the blog about my troubles with covering my hair – eventually I came to it on my own terms.

Tzniut seems to be a hard one for me too but I think I have reached a place where I am happy with my level. I like attention. I am being totally honest here. I like walking into a room and being noticed. I dress for that too. Yes it helps to be a skinny wench with an awesome figure, especially when one has birthed four big-headed children and is well entrenched in her 30s. God has also blessed me with a pleasant face and a huge smile (ok we can say big mouth, but huge smile sounds better) and obviously I have a HUGE ego….. This is the way God created me. I am 100% natural, no additions, no subtractions, no Botox. Why should I hide myself away?

I am always respectful. When I attend functions at the boys’ yeshiva everything that is supposed to be covered is covered. I sit quietly on my side of the mechitzah. I act in a manner befitting the environment however much it peeves me.

When I go to shul or religious events I dress respectfully. Is it all dark colours and monochromatic? Absolutely not. I am a colorful person, and I refuse to tame that down as well. I wear lots of bright colours, pinks and reds and greens. I am flamboyant, but within limits. I wear high hells because I can walk in them and I absolutely love to wear them. I dress for me, for no one else. I do not dress to prove a point to anyone.

Do I cover my *nees? Technically I do. I won’t wear a short on the knee skirt with bare legs, even in the summer. If I plan to be barelegged then I will wear a skirt that covers my knees. When I wear my short skirts I usually wear them with thick black tights, and only in the winter. In my mind, therefore my *nees are covered. However, the skirts I am talking about are to the top of my knee, and NOT mid thigh. I have my limits. I am a woman of extremes. I either wear long skirts to the ankle, or knee length. No calf length for me. This is the way I am comfortable. Does my skirt length make me a terrible person? Someone who always wears long skirts and dresses modestly according to the technical definitions – is she better than me?

I show no cleavage, my shirt collars are always near or on the collarbone, but I don’t measure it. My elbows are almost always covered, because I honestly don’t like anyone looking at them. Ick.

So I guess I set my own standards and limits. People may even call me a hypocrite. When I was doing the dating thing a rebbetzin (rabbi’s wife) told me to dress differently. That I would not find a husband if I continued to dress in this manner.  No high heels, tone down the make up, wear clothes a size bigger than I should etc… Basically, deny who I am in order to catch a good one! My husband loves the way I look, and appreciates that I make an effort with my appearance. If he has a problem with an item of clothing that I have donned, he isn’t afraid to tell me, and I will usually respect his opinion.

You know, you can ask 10 different religious Jewish women about tzniut and get ten different answers. The laws and customs of today are different that they were scores of years ago. In the 1920s it was scandalous to show ankles. In the 1960s so many of our religious mothers wore mini skirts. Each community seems to have its own standard. I dress the way I feel comfortable dressing. I behave in public in a modest manner, I am not loud and boisterous and I know how to respect decorum. I do not draw attention to myself with behaviour or with loud speech.

So I guess that is my definition of tzniut. I toe the line, but up to a point.

I just wanted to add that we were discussing this a lot on twitter the past couple of days, and it seems to me that when discussing tzniut it seems heavily weighted on the female side. What women should and shouldn’t wear. There are similar standards for men, but I hardly ever hear them talked about.

*Hameivin Yavin…..

So many times I hear the same story – the girl really likes the guy, or the guy really likes the girl, but they are not ready to make the commitment. I am talking about people who are well entrenched in careers and are supposedly mature, late 20s at least. In our circles, when you date, you date for marriage. What is this rubbish about “I am really into you and I want to be with you, I just am not ready.” What does that mean? What are you waiting for? You have financial security, a good job, prospects, a nice apartment, perhaps you even have a car, you know where your life is going, you have been dating for years. What on earth are you waiting for? If you put yourself out there on the dating scene, you must have thought you were ready. If the person is not right for you, tell him / her that they are not right for you. Don’t say you aren’t ready. That gives them hope, that makes them sit pining for you night after night, hoping that the next day will be the day that you are ready to make the commitment. If after dating someone for a few months you are still not ready to make that final step and your partner is, something is not right in the relationship.

I have heard way too many stories lately about girls / guys hanging on emotionally to their previous dating partner just in case one day they will be ready to marry them. When they ask me my opinion, I tell them to move on. You cannot sit around and wait forever for someone to change their mind. “Oh but s/he will miss me so much that they will have to realize they need me in their life”. Uh, no. Mostly it’s out of sight out of mind. Yes there are exceptions. Sometimes absence does make the heart grow fonder. But not that often. Maybe they don’t want to let the other go in case nothing better comes along – does anyone want to be married for that reason, that nothing better showed up??!! Obviously if they are not ready to take the relationship to the next level, they are not the one for you. Move on. Next!

Be honest. Be true to yourself and to the other person. If s/he is not for you, say it. Don’t keep the other person hanging.