The Importance of Letting Go – a lesson for all of us

(from this website)

There once was a happy monkey. He wandered through the jungle, happy to be alive. He stopped to eat delicious fruit when he was hungry, and resting when he was tired.

One day he came upon a house, where he saw a bowl of the most beautiful apples. He took one in each hand and ran back into the forest. He sniffed the apples and smelled nothing. He tried to eat them, but hurt his teeth. They were made of wood. They appeared beautiful, however, and when the other monkeys saw them, he held onto them even tighter.

He held his new wooden apples proudly as he wandered the jungle. They glistened red in the sun, and seemed perfect to him. He paid so much attention to them, that he didn’t even notice his growing hunger.

A fruit tree reminded him. He squeezed the apples in his hands, and couldn’t bear to let go of them in order to reach for the real fruit. In fact, he couldn’t relax, either, if he was to defend his apples. A proud, but hungry and less happy monkey continued to walk along the forest trails.

The wooden apples became heavier, and the poor little monkey began to think about leaving them behind. He was tired, hungry, and he couldn’t climb trees or collect fruit with his hands full. What if he just let go?

Letting go seemed crazy, but what else could he do? He was so tired. Seeing the next fruit tree, and smelling its fruit was enough. He dropped the wooden apples, reached up for his meal, and was happy again.

Letting Go Of Wooden Apples

Like that little monkey, we sometimes carry things that seem too valuable to let go. A man carries an image of himself as “productive” – carries it like a shiny wooden apple. But in reality, his busyness leaves him tired, and hungry for a better life. Still, letting go seems crazy. Even his worries are sacred apples – they prove he’s “doing everything he can.” He holds onto them compulsively.

This is a hard thing to see. We identify so strongly with our things even, feeling pain when our cars are dented. How much more powerfully do we identify with our beliefs and self-ideas? Yet they don’t always feed our souls, do they? And we become tired of defending them.

How else could the story end? The monkey might be found dead of hunger, under a beautiful tree, with fruit within reach, but still grasping his wooden apples. I chose to end it with him letting go, because only with open hands can we receive.

 

The Nerve of Some People

I spoke to my KoD last night before I went to sleep. Hung up, punched the pillow a couple of times and fell into a blissful slumber. The blaring of the phone woke me, heart pounding, at 12.10am. Local number. I picked up – someone trying to send a fax, wrong number, obviously. I hang up, punch the pillow, and fall back to sleep. 1.10 am – the blaring of the phone woke me up. Same number, same darn fax noises. Hung up. 2.10 am – same thing. By now I am frustrated beyond belief. I call the number back ready to spit nails, and all I get is busy signal. This time I don’t hang up. I leave the phone off the hook so I can actually sleep, but now my sleep is so disrupted that I dream that the phone is ringing when it most definitely can’t be, and I wake up.

I am now caffeinated and tried calling the number again – still a busy signal. I am so tired right now that I could cry. These imbeciles stole my sleep. Let me at them, once I find out who they are they will pay.

 

Wednesday’s Wacky Signs

 

A date with destiny? not so much….

(This was submitted by a reader, was just edited a little)

I went out with this “man” from a Jewish online dating site… why? Don’t ask me why! It’s more like I had to even though my gut said, “Don’t go! For the love of Pete please don’t go!” He knows a bunch of people I know and it was sort of I had to go sort of deal. Everyone wants to fix me up, I am just so darn pretty and eligible, I guess.

This is how I knew it was going to be bad… despite the accident I recently had the “man”  kept calling daily asking me out, I’d say,” I’m in a lot of pain now, please give me some time”… He didn’t really get it and called again the next day. Persistence can pay off, but this was downright nagging.

I was never one of those ladies that liked a date that called me daily… NEVER. I’m not saying I never want to hear from them, it’s more like… aren’t you busy? And just how needy are you???

Anyway, so I throw on a slinky black skirt, a striped top that thankfully allocated room to accommodate my war wounds and my oh so functional sling (because my arm was injured). He drives up and waits in the car, idiot doesn’t even have the decency to walk out. Guess he never had a pep talk from a shadchan. So he finally levers his lazy self out of the car while I wait for him to pop the lock on the door- his car stinks of cologne. I don’t know what it was, but it made me woozy. Probably called Eau-de-Stink. Looks-wise… he’s sort of dumpy, eyebrows are quite un-groomed and pretty much a uni-brow, and his fingers look like sausages. Don’t ask me why I look at hands, but I always do. But looks are not everything, and in shidduchim we are told to consider the whole person. Shudder.

So we start driving, he drives slow, like a dead grandmother who never learned how to drive. He asks me “so what do people say when they see your face?”
me “what?”
him “Don’t they say things if you’re pretty or something?”
me “I normally don’t poll my dates”
silence
me “thanks for the odd question, I love awkwardness on dates, it’s happier than suicide”
silence
(Again, I think he definitely needs a pep talk from a shadchan.)
so as you can see, it’s going really well.

We finally get to the restaurant, which he repeatedly told me I was saying wrong, despite him being the wrong one. Then he told me I looked very Sephardic, I told him I wasn’t. (I should know, right??) He said, ‘no, no I really see it’ Oh Hell kill me now! I thought religious men were not supposed to comment on looks!! Certainly not on first dates!!

Now, let me walk you through dinner. First he complains about the menu, then finally decides on a dish, this took him over half an hour- during which he decides that everything I say, he’s going to say I’m wrong, even if it was an opinion. Oh boy, that was fun! What an obnoxious man – but I was well brought up so I sat still at the table…counting the minutes until I could leave.
At one point, I didn’t reply to him and he says “oh I see I’ve made you speechless”
me “no, I just have nothing to say because you’re a moron”

The appetizer comes and he eats it so quickly, I was scared he was going to bite his  hand while he was at it. Not only that, he ate with his hands and kept offering me some, I said no thank you and kept sipping my water. Which was an effort to keep the vomit down. Then the waiter comes by and as he lifts the plate we notice a piece of the fish appetizer had fallen off, the waiter goes towards the piece with his napkin, when suddenly sausage-fingers swoops in and eats the fish off the table. I drink more water, again in hopes of keeping the vomit down… in fact my mouth dropped open and he said, ‘that was tasty’. Table manners – #fail.

Oh, I should also mention that he kept furiously rubbing his eyes with his sausage fingers, leaving his eye red. He may have had pink eye, glad I am shomeret negiah and didn’t have to touch him. Euw!

When the main courses were served, he ate his meal so quickly you’d think he was just out of a refugee camp- now I may not be a gourmand but I at least like to chew and enjoy my meals, savor the flavor and relax… not this dude, he ate so quickly that I don’t think it was eating but rather inhaling. And while I tried to eat my meal he accused me of hiding things. Then I snapped, I told him that yes I was in pain (just had an accident, remember, oh needy one??) and no I don’t want to joke around all night because if you are joking then you don’t know who the person is because they are putting on a show and if for one minute could stop arguing with me then maybe just maybe we could have a civilized conversation. His reply, ‘I like to argue, and you’re wrong, people who joke can’t hide anything’ Oh my god, kill me.

Then he orders coffee for dessert, because we really needed to prolong this torment… and he went on and on about his nephew and niece being spoiled and their mom, his sister, not giving a hoot…. oh how pleasant. Nice of him to share his dysfunctional family – now I don’t have to check that out for myself with his references.

He pays for dinner (at least that much he did), I say thank you and we walk to the car.

Oddly enough on the car ride home we finally manage to have a decent conversation, and because we were 4 blocks from my house I decide to say, “Are you enjoying the conversation?”
him “Yes actually I am”
me “Odd, and it doesn’t include fighting but rather two people talking about their lives and not joking”
him silence
me “oh well whatever”
him “I guess I get a little ahead of myself and can be a bit arrogant”
me “yeah, a tad, ya think?”

So he drops me home, asks to walk me to the door, I said no thanks and thanks for dinner- walk away and have never heard from him since. Thank the lord.

Lesson to be learned, I don’t like sausages, inbreeding is bad, and I know how to rock a sling.

 

Hog Heaven

We were walking along minding our own business this morning, on Decarie, when we passed a shop that had a sexy red Harley parked out front. I whipped out my camera phone and took a pic of the Harley….drooling all the while. As I was putting away the phone the owner came out of the store and asked me if I wanted to sit on it. OMG I about passed out with the joy of the moment. I perched my perky little patootie on the big red machine and let myself daydream away as my friend snapped a pic. KoD – this one’s for you.

(Mum, if you are reading this, please know I was not planning to ride the machine, I was not wearing a helmet because the motorbike was stationary. If it had been moving I would have been wearing a helmet, but I wasn’t planning on riding it anyway. Enough of a disclaimer? I think so)

 

Summer Camp – Right or Privilege?

This time of year the great North American summer rite of passage starts. Mothers pack up their kids duffle bags with 20 pairs of everything, all labeled and neatly folded. Parents drive their kids to the bus stop and watch as the kids all play cool and ignore their parents as they board their buses for a month or two of fun away from the family. The parents pay through the nose for this camp – but most parents say it’s worth it. My eldest two have been to sleep-away camp once or twice, and thoroughly enjoyed it, but that was years ago.

Those who aren’t old enough to go, or those who wish to stay closer, they can go to day-camp. 8 hours a day of fun and sun, a little bit of learning thrown in – but it’s a way to keep the kids occupied during the long break from school. (and a way to keep parents from going totally mental having their kids home for 10 weeks complaining they are booooored). And yes there is a cost involved, but day camp is significantly cheaper than sleep away camp. But when you add up the trips they go on, it gets expensive. But if you need to work and keep the kids occupied this is an informed choice.

Neither of these two options are MANDATORY. Kids can stay home and many do. There has been many a summer that my kids did ImaCamp because there was no money for day camp, certainly not for sleep-away camp. OR you can hire a local teen to watch your kids. OR there are local kids that make little camps in their back yards. OR you can switch off with friends, if you have to work, or have errands you want to do without kids in tow.

Seems to be from watching the FaceBook pages of numerous friends and associates, that the majority of Jewish / religious kids go to a summer camp of some sort. I happen to know that many of these parents are not wealthy and are probably still paying off school tuition for the year. How the heck do people afford to send numerous kids away or to day camp all summer long? There is a recession on, no one has money, yet these kids almost expect to be going to camp, and probably don’t even think about the cost. I guess if they go year after year, they come to expect it. Which is what begs the question – is summer camp a right or a privilege?

My kids have very low expectations when it comes to sleep-away camp. They know it’s not an option, and they aren’t so thrilled about day-camp either. If I send them they will go, but they love hanging out with me. The local day camp is at their school – for them that’s a good enough reason not to go. They would prefer to sit around all day Wii-ing and DVD-ing and going to the pool occasionally. But if they stay home, they have to help with the laundry, the housework, the shopping, the errands, etc and it teaches them what it takes to run a house. We do fun stuff too, but only after other stuff is done.

My kids, due to circumstance, know that when I send them to camp they are privileged to be able to go, and they appreciate it. They don’t expect it. And if I were to tell them, sorry kiddos, but no day camp this year, they would totally be ok with it. No tears, no tantrums, no kicking and screaming. Yes, most of their friends are going either to sleep-away or to day-camp. Yes they would love to have gone away, but they also know that there are limits to what they can have. They also know that we are to be moving soon, and that will be a HUGE adventure in and of itself. One that most of their friends won’t have.

So, my point, or my question, to you, dear reader, is as follows. Do you send your kids to day camp or sleep-away? Do they appreciate the financial sacrifice? Have you had to cancel a summer of fun? How did they take it? Have you kept the kids home in the summer, even it meant not being able to work? How did that work? Do they see camp as a privilege or a right? I want all your thoughts on this. Tell it to me straight….I can take it.

 

Crash

Scary. Was driving a friend to an appointment, up a steep hill. Car in front of me was driving up minding his own business when another car came out of a side street and totally sideswiped him. Right in front of us. It was so freaky. I was so panicked. My heart raced and my palms sweated. It could have been us, but for the grace of G-d. It seemed as if no one was majorly hurt, and we carried on our journey. It took me at least a half an hour to stop shaking. They say timing is everything. Two minutes earlier we were miffed at being stuck behind a truck. If not for that truck….it doesn’t even bear thinking about.

Thank you G-d for keeping me and my friend safe. Amen.

 

Prankitude

What a wonderful weekend that was with my KoD. The KoD played a prank on me, and I totally fell for it. I am so gonna get him back, I just have to figure out how.

On his drive up he let me know when he reached certain key landmarks – Albany, Lake George, Plattsburgh etc. Around 2 pm on Friday he texted me saying “12 cars” – which basically meant there were 12 cars ahead of him in line at the border. So I figured I had at least an hour, probably more, until he got here. The kids were watching a movie, food was cooked for Shabbat, so I closed my bedroom door and got into my shower (I have an ensuite bathroom). The idea was to be all freshly showered and made up and looking gorgeous for my King when he arrived. He deserves for me to make a special effort, I thought. Hahaha.

So I take my time with my ablutions, probably was even singing in the shower. *cringe*. As I towel off I am thinking through my clothing options. I opened up the bathroom door minding my own business, wrapped in a huge pink fluffy towel, lost in thought.

Facing the bathroom door is my recliner, which is generally unoccupied unless I am sitting in it. Except, I open the door to exit the bathroom and there is a MAN sitting in it with a big grin on his face. My husband. Who was still supposed to be on the road. I screamed and clutched my heart. He laughed. I went back two steps and closed the bathroom door, and then reopened it and peered out. Yep he was still there. Of course I ran to him at this point and I think I punched him softly on the shoulder. He was thrilled to have surprised me. I don’t like surprises, and am very suspicious, so I know when someone is going to surprise me. Totally didn’t see this one coming.

He walked in the front door, apparently, and the boys were jumping up and down with glee to see him, but before they could yell and alert me to the fact that he was here, he put his fingers to his lips and shushed them. The eldest prince had told me that KoD was gonna punk me again, I was so sure he wouldn’t. They thought it was hysterical.

So now we need to come up with a wonderful way to get him back….all thoughts and evil plans appreciated

 

Compliments

I just got one of the nicest compliments ever…On Twitter, there is a meme that we do every Friday, we suggest people for others to follow, based on subject matter, or just because we think they should be followed.

One of my followers (ie a Twitter friend), @crowfer, tweeted this this morning

“#FollowFriday: @hsabomilner Because she’s a really nice person who’s fun to talk to + her tweets remind me of Erma Bombeck, and I love Erma”

I am beyond moved and touched. What a comparison!! Erma Bombeck!! What a great way to start my day!! Thanks @crowfer!!

 

I love this kid

My oldest has a best friend who I call Blessing, and he totally is a blessing. He hangs out with the two oldest, and is a very good influence on them. He has slept over the past two nights, which is no big deal – I call him my 5^th son because he practically lives here. The kids have all grown up together and I do not treat him as a guest. When he is here for a meal he has to help clean up, I ask him to do stuff that I ask the other kids to do and he does it willingly.

So this morning I went grocery shopping with Squiggs and when I came home I had the other boys unload the stuff. As soon as everything was on the kitchen table waiting for me to organize it my way they were back in front of the Nintendo Wii (thanks dear friends for that gift – it provides many hours of amusement for my children. (I’m not sure if that was supposed to have a sarcastic tone or not)). Blessing has no tv or Wii at home.

It’s a gorgeous day and they wanted to spend it square eyed and flat-tushed. Nope. Mean old momma told them they had to go clean their rooms before the tv goes on. Fast forward 30 minutes of futzing around, and Blessing is working real hard cleaning the big boys room, and they are just pushing stuff from one place to the other. Squiggs asked me to tell Blessing to stop cleaning his mess, I told Squiggs that instead of me telling Blessing to stop, he should take over from him and do what I asked of him.

They finally finished cleaning their room and I made them go outside and get some air. I know they will be back inside soon because they will be hungry. Must be at least 30 minutes since they ate something.

(BTW I asked Blessing to move in with us – he never complains, never sasses me and always listens. Perfect Kid)

 

Lament of the Panty Hose

To me summer means bare legs and sandals showing off my pretty pedicure. Hot weather means long flowing skirts, bare feet running through the grass, no clothes sticking to me. Summer means no dratted panty hose, stockings, pop socks, thigh highs, knee highs, tights – whatever you want to call them. I refuse. No way no how. If I want to be uncomfortable I know where I can borrow a straitjacket.

Now I am not disrespectful. If I am going to be in an extremely religious environment I won’t wear the open toed shoes and my clothes will be a little more modest. I will even cover my “nees” [sic]. We had a graduation at the local school this week, but they have no air conditioning there and there was no way I was going to wear panty hose. It was for everyone else’s safety and comfort that I eschewed them. (I am sure the rabbis would not have wanted me to rip em off in front of all assembled because I felt I was going to explode from heat).

We have a wedding to attend tonight, and after polling some of my girls who are going to be there, the consensus is that panty hose must be worn. It’s an extremely religious affair, separate seating, lots of people, mainly black hat wearers and their expensive sheitel wearing spouses. (The wigs are expensive, not the spouses).

Here’s the thing – if it is separate seating, then the men are not going to be around to look at my legs, silk clad or not, right? Oh right, wearing panty hose is for me, so that I should know that I am tzanua. Right. But it was pointed out that it doesn’t matter, I need to dress the part out of respect for the Baalei Simcha, the people making the wedding. But I will be dressed modestly (gorgeously…and the shoes, to die for) – I just want to forego that panty hose. Is it so darn heinous? Will I really be excommunicated?

Come on ladies, let me know what you think?

Edited to Add a photo of how well i dressed for this wedding, panty hose and all.

 

Free Gilad Shalit

Today marks 3 years since 19 year old Israeli soldier Gilad was kidnapped by Hamas militants. In three years his voice has been heard once. He has had NO visits from the red cross.  We have a massive campaign going on on Twitter to bring his plight to world attention. Someone posted the following prayer, and it moved me more than anything, so I wanted to share it with you. prayer for Gilad Shalit http://blip.tv/file/2282774.

Gilad, we have not forgotten you, we pray for you daily.

BRING HIM HOME!!!

 

Open letter to my sons

I love you, you know that. I also happen to know even if sometimes you dislike each other, you love your brothers very much. So please explain to me, dear hearts, why it is that your hands and feet seem to enjoy connecting at regular intervals with various parts of various brothers’ anatomy? You all speak wonderfully well and have enormous vocabularies – why can you not use words to ask your brother(s) to move? Why do you have to shove? And why do you then have to shove back?

Signed, your exasperated mother who wishes her sons could be more gentle yet still keep their masculinity apparent….

PS I am totally enjoying the hugs and squishes that I am getting throughout the day now that school is out, d’you think you could hug and squish each other lovingly too?

 

Wednesdays Wacky Signs

 

Gift Wrap

So I am on the phone with the KoD tonight and he mentions he has a bris to go to this week. What kind of gift should he get, where should he go to get it etc. So I start telling him what he should look for, and he mentions “but I need to go somewhere that they will wrap it”. Uh, say what? “Don’t you know how to wrap a gift?” Apparently this was not part of his skill set that was taught in Junior High. He has ZERO knowledge of how to wrap a gift. “How about” I say “buying a gift bag and tissue paper..” – I didn’t even get to finish the sentence. He can’t do that either. Of course I ended up offering to shop for him and wrap it and all, but it surprised me that he just didn’t know how to do this.

Now, as we all know, the KoD is a smart man (he married me…makes him a genius) and I am sure he could figure out how to wrap a baby gift, but he maintains that men in general do not know how to wrap gifts. So he asked me to ask you womenfolk among my readership whether your husbands know how to wrap gifts, and ask you menfolk if you have the knowledge of the science of giftwrapping.

(Ok, KoD, let me just tell you, it really isn’t difficult at all. You just need to apply yourself. And maybe follow instructions – fold here, tape here, and Bob’s your mother’s brother…..)

So, please, tell the KoD your thoughts on the subject.

KoD, my love, I have stopped laughing….temporarily anyway……love you!

(and can I just say that this summer I will be holding gift wrapping workshops for the boys in my area so they don’t grow up so clueless about this important skill. I did, however, remind KoD that when buying presents for me, the gifts  that are pretty little boxes with jewellery inside don’t need to be wrapped. Hint hint hint.)