I will admit I was pretty scared about doing mikvah in Israel. I have some secular Israeli friends who told me they heard mikvahs in Israel were dirty and gross. Before going any further I want to kill this notion. My mikvah experience was amazing, heavenly. If you're in Israel, go and experience the mikvah. It is absolutely wonderful. This mikvah was better than anything I experienced in the states. 

We rented a kosher apartment in Rechavia. In the information booklet is a number for the local mikvah. I called them a few days earlier to make an appointment. I was informed no appointment was necessary, all I had to do was show up after 5pm and I could get ready there at my convenience. The mikvah is open seven days a week. I was skeptical but I decided to trust. In America I was asked to come to the mikvah ready, I was not used to having a space where I could actually spend some time preparing for the big dip. 

I arrived at the mivkah confused. There was no grand entrance but I could read in Hebrew mikvah with an arrow pointing behind the building. I finally found a door but it was locked. I nearly gave up. I decided to try the other side of the building before going home. The other side of the building had a lovely door leading to a well lit walkway and the woman's entrance to the mivkah. I had found the men's entrance originally which isn't half as nice as the woman's side. 

I walked in and nearly died in ecstasy. The place was gorgeous. Clean, beautiful, spa-like in design. When the woman at the front asked me if I wanted bath or shower I nearly keeled over. I haven't had a bath since leaving the States. I also have not had a hot shower more than twice since getting here. We learned yesterday that the heating element in our rooftop heater was broken. I went from taking daily hot baths to cold showers. It has probably been the hardest part of living in Israel. This morning I turned on the heater eagerly anticipating a hot shower, it was lukewarm at best. Still, it was a bit warmer than my daily cold showers so I am satisfied. 

When I walked into the preparation room I was truly in ecstasy. I could barely speak. Right there in front of me was the most beautiful bathroom. There was a real bathtub that filled with hot, scalding water. I did not want to leave. When I was done I pushed the READY button and a lady opened the door leading to the mikvah from my room. Unlike at my local Chabad mikvah, she did not check me for any hairs on my hands or feet. She did ask if I checked myself and then encouraged me to get in. 

The actual mikvah experience was very nice. I wish I could have had more time to sit and pray in the mivkah like the Chabad mikvah back home encourages me to do, but it's a busy mikvah and other women were waiting to dunk. 

I left the mivkah completely relaxed. Every bone in my body melted under the heat of the hot bath and hot room. I was reluctant to return home to my balagan. I came home, Israeli cartoons were blasting, food was everywhere and a coffee table was overturned. I strongly considered turning around for a second round of dunking! So, if you're in Israel, don't be shy. Despite my lack of Hebrew and the mikvah lady's lack of English we did great, both of us happy to partake in such a special mitzvah.

And if you're curious to learn more about mikvah, here you go: http://www.chabad.org/theJewishWoman/article_cdo/aid/1541/jewish/The-Mikvah.htm

Finding living accommodations in Jerusalem is very tricky and very expensive. We initially rented a two bedroom apartment in Rechavia through a Craigslist ad I found in the comfort of my home in America. When we got here we found things we liked about the location and things we didn't like about the location and decided to find a different place to live. 
Logan spent several days and evenings searching online and cold calling property managers trying to setup viewing appointments of apartments all over town. 

We were torn on where we wanted to settle. We liked Nachlaot a lot. The old winding streets and homes echoed the Old City, while neighboring the shuk.  We wanted a garden apartment, a bathtub and two bedrooms. There was exactly one apartment in Nachlaot that matched our criteria. 


We toured the apartment shocked at how expensive the rent was relative to the dilapidated state of the structure, the mess of things the owner left everywhere and the enormous dumpster directly in front of the building stinking up a major section of the abode. We walked away disappointed. 

We decided to widen our search and look at apartments along Jerusalem's light rail. We found an apartment within our price range and within walking distance of one of the light rail stops and it was a horror story (as my mother would say). We found another apartment in the city central, brand new and perfect. Once all the fees were added in I could not in good conscience rent out the place while living off of savings. 

Apartments in Jerusalem are EXPENSIVE. 

The rental market is nuts. When you rent a place you pay rent, typically a full month's rent to the property manager, property taxes and HOA fees. Once all of those fees add up you are easily paying hundreds of dollars per month over the rental price you see on the ad. Most of the properties we saw were investment vehicles. Jerusalem is not a big place. I wonder what percentage of apartments are owned by investors looking to make a profit in the real estate market. 

I can't blame people for wanting to make money but I really feel for locals who have to compete with Westerners with Western paychecks who can afford the crazy rental prices. Incomes in Israel are much lower when compared with incomes in Western countries. 

Renting here is really a crazy process. You have to repeatedly call property managers to get anyone to pick up the phone. And when they do pick up the phone they say, "I will call you back," and then they never call you back. You actually have to call them again and hope they will speak with you. No matter what you are discussing, if someone's cellphone rings, they will pick up their phone while you stand there in mid-sentence. 

Also, property managers do not bother dressing up for you. Gym shoes and sloppy clothes are perfectly acceptable. Bicycles are preferred methods of transportation. 

Everyone has kids. One kid, five kids, doesn't matter and they all love kids. One property manager gave us his sister's phone number because they have kids and we would like them and we should get ourselves invited over there for Shabbat. 

When a place is listed as two bedrooms it's really one bedroom and a living room. One place was listed as two bedrooms, it was actually one bedroom and the owner said he really wants to list it as 2.5 bedrooms because it's the size of a 2.5 bedroom apartment. The rental market and Israel as a whole feels like a crazy place where everyone makes up their own rules. 

However there is one rule most of the units we saw followed. All apartment furniture, walls and floors must be white. Again, it's a horror story. I have two kids, one who is bat shit crazy and has a fetish for covering everything within his reach with food. 

Oh and garden apartment does not mean you don't have any stairs. The garden apartment we are currently renting has two flight of stairs. It doesn't make any sense. Then again, nothing in Israel seems to make any sense anyway. 

We climbed higher and higher in a car with an overheating light flashing. I nervously looked at the light, the street, the light, the street - hoping we would reach our destination before smoke billowed out of the car. By the time we finally arrived I was ready to fly out of the car and kiss the ground. I decided to forgo a spectacle and jumped out, ran into the courtyard and started calling out to David, the property manager. I heard a "hello" two flights down and flew downstairs with Aaron in my arms. 
I was craving a hot shower. I wanted a hot shower more than I wanted anything else; unfortunately we still had the property manager standing in the way. 

Finally, we wrapped up details with David. I eagerly turned on the shower waiting for glorious hot steam to fill the tiny bathroom. 

Nothing. 

Only cold water greeted my fingers. I stared at the water willing it to turn hot. I turned the nozzle left and right and left and right and left and right - the water remained cold. It veered from cold to freezing. I fought back tears. I was tired; exhausted, mentally and emotionally worn down and all I wanted was a hot shower to cleanse me physically and energetically. 

Finally after 30 minutes I gave up and turned off the water.

I accepted defeat urging Logan and the kids to leave the house in search of dinner. We piled the kids in the stroller and began our quest for food. We had no idea which direction to take. We picked one route and off we went. We walked and walked as it got colder and colder outside. We reached a point where our jackets were not enough insulation from the cold winds of Jerusalem. We were freezing, hungry and exhausted. Finally we found a sign for Mcdonalds. We gave up the search for schwarma and walked towards the Mcdonalds sign. As luck would have it we found a modern schwarma restaurant and went inside. The bitter winds of ice chased us inside. 

We ordered food, sat down and tried to eat. Sadie fell asleep in the stroller hunched and cold. Aaron was manic, erratically running around and jumping on our laps. I had no patience for the meal. 

I requested three to go boxes, was handed one, given a dirty look when I asked for two more and then handed one more. Fine. I stuffed the food in two boxes and off we went in search of our apartment. Did I mention it was cold? My jacket felt flimsy, completely unable to prevent the cold from seeping into my bones. We made it back before nightfall. 

On our way down two flights of stairs to our "garden view" apartment a neighbor stopped us. She is an older lady, religious, with a warm smile. It seems Logan's cousins had stopped by with a bag of treats for us to enjoy on our first day here. Logan has two sets of cousins here in Israel. One set is Haredi, they are an extremely strict sect of Judaism. Another set of cousins are also religious Jews but they are not Haredi. The Haredi set brought us delicious snacks which we were thankful for in the middle of the night when jetlagged attacked. 

The night was a miserable experience with Aaron and Sadie waking up around two in the morning demanding food and water. We ate dinner's leftovers, I mechanically stuffed myself with food to comfort my tired brain. About four hours later we went back to sleep. 

Sadie woke up a few hours later ready to play. My eyes could not open. I stayed in bed cuddling Aaron while Logan entertained Sadie until we woke up. Aaron stayed in bed for hours, finally catching up on sleep. 

While I was sleeping Logan spent the morning trying to get our luggage. He managed to get an Israeli number and have a time setup for the luggage drop off. Logan went off to find a shop with water because we were all feeling like camels in search of an oasis and the phone rang. Logan's phone rang. I nervously looked around unsure of my next move. 

I picked up the phone, "hello?"
A man with a deep voice replied, "shalom."
I say, "shalom."
He responded, "shalom."
I, not feeling cheeky in the least, replied again, "shalom."
Exasperatedly he mumbled, "shalom, shalom, shalom, shalom."
Each shalom is a solemn bell tolling deeper finalizing our shaloms and forcing us on to the next topic of conversation. 
"Hello," I replied.
"Yes, yes, okay, your luggage, I drop off between one and three." 
My mother's strong Russian accent laced my words, "okay, but it would be very nice if you come at one and not three. We are stuck here. Hungry. Very nice. Okay?"
"Okay. I see vat I can do." I can hear him nodding in his truck. 
Then he hung up. 

Logan returned and by some miracle we only have to wait a few hours, luggage was dropped off by one. The driver literally stopped the truck, grabbed the suitcase, thumped it on to the sidewalk and left. 

Fine. It was in the middle of the afternoon, we decided to go on an adventure with two kids and two parents. Honestly I can't remember the rest of the day. I think we walked around, Sadie cried a lot about being cold, kids slept in the stroller, we ate something and we came back to the apartment. I have a small memory of looking around me and wondering what the hell I did to my life. There was some deep understanding we were not on vacation and we had rented out our house and had decided to change everything and the change was upon us and I was not sure I was okay with what was occurring. 

The night was another night of Aaron crying suffering from jet lag. 

Friday we tried to visit the shuk. Our stroller barely moved through the sea of people and we decided to come back another day. We then headed towards the charedi part of town to find an affordable coat for Sadie. I saw a sign on a building advertising a mall. We walked past a dark tinted door doubting that could be the entrance to a mall. After a clear solid circle around the building without any grand flashy entrance we hesitatingly walked towards the door and entered the building. It was a mall. I am using the word mall here generously. It was a building, dark and dank, a few shops sat sadly neither beckoning visitors or deterring them. Rather, each storefront depressed the viewer. I wanted to either sit down and have a good cry or exit the mall quickly. Unfortunately at the end of six shops sat a fancy baby boutique filled with expensive French clothing. A couple with their baby were pawing at fancy hats while the shopkeeper showed me three beautiful coats for Sadie. All of them were around 350 and 400 shekels. In dollars they were around $100 each, way out of our price range. I thought they were beautiful. I wanted to buy one for Sadie anyway. I brought her in and she took one look, shook her head and declared she did not like them. 

The round French shopkeeper floated over to me and asked, "well?' He spoke English beautifully with a French accent. I looked at Sadie nervously. "Sadie," I asked her, "do you not like the jackets because they are not pink?" 
"Yes, mommy." She replied. 
I looked at the shopkeeper, shrugged, threw out my hands wide and joked, "they're not pink, she wants pink, what can I do?"
Secretly I was relieved. Living on savings does not allow you to buy $100 jackets. 
His rotundness turned away from me, his eyes rolled without being rolled. He was annoyed I continued to use his precious air in the shop. I tried saying "shalom" but he ignored me focusing solely on buying customers. 

We left the mall nervous we were not going to find a coat for Sadie in time before Shabbat started and Jerusalem closed down. Logan's Charedi cousin told us to check out Bazaar Strauss. I imagined a large bazaar, another type of open air market filled with clothing. No, bazaar strauss was a tiny building with a cashier in the downstairs and a little setup of clothing on the second floor you had to climb a rundown set of stairs to get to. There were two different types of coats, three different types of skirts, a few types of shirts, this was a store that did not allow variety. You essentially had either option A or option B. They only had black coats. I talked Sadie into liking one of the coats because it had a fancy belt. For $25 she had a thick warm coat - the days of her crying in the stroller while wearing three sweatshirts and Logan's jacket were behind us! She also wanted to buy two long skirts, one of them was a long black one she wore for three days straight until even she agreed it was too dirty to wear again. 

Walking quickly back to our apartment before Shabbat we walked past a tiny restaurant hidden in a nook of a building. Two men in their 20's were sitting outside bent over two bowls of soup. I could not help it, I was entranced. I have never seen two men in America sitting at a restaurant talking and eating soup. I had to know what kind of soup did this to hip, young men. I looked at the sign plastered to the glass of the restaurant and read "Kurdish Food," somewhere among all of the Hebrew. Inside was a tiny shop with a stove, six different types of pots and a man in his 30's hanging out. We walked in and he immediately handed Sadie a fried ball which he called Kube. From what I saw in the restaurant there are two types of Kube. There is deep fried Kube you eat like a snack or there is a softer, less crunchy Kube you eat in soup. 

Kube are round balls of dough stuffed with ground meat. They are delicious. They are filling. The menu consisted of Kube soup. You could get beet Kube soup, sour Kube soup or tomato pumpkin Kube soup. When I asked him what the soups tasted like he asked me if I wanted a sample. A sample consisted of a small bowl, him reaching into one of the pots in front of him and a generous heaping of soup poured into the bowl. Suffice to say, I had to order a bowl of Kube soup. We sat outside next to the young men enjoying their soup. Neither of them finished their soup. They both got up 3/4th of the way and blew threw numerous cigarettes. 

We made it back in time to light Shabbat candles, change and walk to Logan's cousins in the German Colony. Logan's cousin's wife made a fantastic meal, probably one of the tastiest I have enjoyed while on our trip here. We had a lovely time and enjoyed their company and their friends' company very much. We walked back home and I spent the night with Aaron as he cried repeatedly and suffered from another night of bad jet lag. 

Shabbat. Day of rest. We played outside all day. The first few hours of the morning we sat outside in our garden area and watched Aaron chase the stray cats that lived in the garden. The neighbor on the third floor feeds the cats so there are many cats calling the backyard home. At one point Aaron decided to try eating a piece of cat poop, an action that sent me into a tizzy for an hour or so. While we sat outside the neighbor adjacent to us opened their window, stuck their head out and proceeded to engage us in conversation wishing us a good Shabbat. The husband and wife were dressed beautifully, Shabbat ready while Logan and I were practically in our pajamas trying to regain some sanity after another sleepless night. I tried apologizing about all the crying and was told repeatedly they were children, there was nothing I could do. In the afternoon we found a park where Sadie played with two boys whose parents were American immigrants. It was wonderful connecting with a young, Jewish couple with kids who shared similar interests. 

I can happily say Saturday night was the first night Aaron did not demand to stay up through half of the night and although he woke up repeatedly I knew we were going to beat his jet lag. 

To be continued...

One of my favorite places in all of Israel is the Mahane Yehuda Market or "the shuk." It's a huge market filled with merchants selling anything you can think of. You want freshly squeezed juice? Done. You want fresh fish? Done. You want any kind of kosher gummy? Done. You want meat? Done. You want amazing delicious cheeses? Done. 

Need I go on? 

Today we decided to spend the day at the shuk walking around and soaking in the sights. The open air market is an experience. We walked up and down the aisles watching people purchase fresh fruits and vegetables. Today was a great day to go and take photos. When we went last Friday it was impossible to walk anywhere, it seemed all of Jerusalem was at the shuk purchasing food for shabbat.

I want to fill today's post with pictures of the shuk, not only one of the my favorite places in Israel but one of my favorite places in the world.  

 

Thank God we made it. We initially had tickets to Israel for February 3rd. As life would have it, on February 2nd around two in the afternoon my husband received an email to check-in to our flight. On checking in we learned that our flight from New York to Israel was no longer happening! An entire leg of our trip was cancelled. I sat down in the arm chair next to my husband and felt relieved. 

I had spent the past month completely freaked out about packing and getting on an airplane. 
Two pm the night before our original flight and we were still not packed. We spent the morning and early afternoon visiting Logan's grandmother - leaving the last of packing to be finished in the evening. Several hours later with massive negotiating Logan managed to get us a flight to NY on February 4th and to fly with a different airline from New York to Jerusalem. 

I am not sure we would have made it to Jerusalem if we were to fly out on our original flight. We packed until  one am and still had to pack things the next day. We also needed to do a final run to our storage, exchange our new Target carry ons for new Cost-co carry ons, drop off things to our mailbox, pick up mail from our PO BOX and eat sushi with my family. 

Three am February 4th, the alarm went off. It was game day. Logan's mom met us at my parents' house, my parents helped us get our kids into the car and off we went. While my kids sat in the car and my parents stood outside, my mother smiling and my father trying to hide his sadness, I felt a wave of sadness overcome me. I was leaving my family behind for the longest time I've ever left them. Two months many years ago was the last and the longest time I ever spent away from my parents. 

We spent the last two weeks before our adventure living with my parents. It was quite the experience living at home again. My kids absolutely loved having their grandparents around them 24/7. I loved having my parents around. A house with my mother is a full house. She is a fireball of energy running around everywhere and doing everything all at once. I also realized my mother's house stays so beautifully clean because she spends hours every single day cleaning it. There is no magic other than lots of hard work. 

Standing outside in my parents' driveway I understood the enormity of the adventure ahead of us. The past six months of planning and packing did not affect me in the same way that saying goodbye to my parents made me feel. Leaving my parents was leaving a part of myself. I love my parents a lot. They drive me nuts but at their core they are home. Since moving out of their house six years ago I did not feel part of their family life. I was a stranger, familiar and loved, but not part of their core group. The last two weeks was a wonderful flashback, a warm cocoon of feeling meaningful in their lives. A small part of me wanted to stay, to continue living in their upstairs bedroom and to be wrapped up in their world. 

I said goodbye and hoped my hugs would convey how much I would miss them and how much I loved them. 

The ride to the airport was quiet. Logan's mother rode in between the kids and I sat beside Logan as we drove on the freeway. The roads were empty. We arrived at the airport and circled around twice before finding the International Departures section. We parked curbside, emptied the car and were on our way. The next two hours were spent entertaining the kids, running circles around the airport and battling massive flying anxiety. My stomach churns just writing about the anxiety. 

Thankfully it was smooth sailing all the way to New York. Initially Aaron fell asleep, he napped for about an hour into the flight. The rest of the flight we spent feeding and entertaining Aaron as he jumped all over us in boredom. Other than entertaining Aaron I spent the flight reading a book about overcoming anxiety. Strangely, it was comforting.

Upon landing in New York we entertained ourselves for two hours with food while chasing the kids up and down the floor escalator. The last hour was spent figuring out our tickets with the ELAL staff as people swarmed the gate. While standing in line watching streams of all kinds of Jews enter the gate area Logan looked at me and said, "it has begun." The last thirty minutes before boarding our flight Aaron ran around with another boy while Sadie jumped around and people dominated the gate area. I can't fully explain the difference between a flight of Jews and non-Jews but there is a difference. The gate area in San Diego was quiet, peaceful and orderly. The gate area in New York was dominated by people waiting to board the plane. There were kids everywhere. There was a group of loud teenagers yelling - hormones shooting out of every orifice. Logan stood talking to his sister on the phone while our kids ran in two different directions, our stroller and carry-ons were about ten feet away and his backpack ten feet away in the opposite direction from our stroller. My organized and efficient husband morphed into another ELAL passenger, crazy and loud. My head spun as I tried to watch the bags and chase after the kids while soaking in the chaos around me. I finally snapped when he was more interested talking on the phone than boarding the plane. 

The flight to Jerusalem was a mess. Aaron refused to sleep. The first thirty minutes of the flight Aaron and Sadie slept, Logan and I thought we were in for a smooth ride. We were wrong. We were completely wrong. Neither child slept after the initial little snooze for the entire flight. Aaron switched from crying/screaming and running up and down the halls the entire flight. Our neighbors hated us. I hated us. 

I watched the minutes countdown until we reached out destination. I tried ignoring the nagging image of our plane going down in flames in the middle of the ocean. Time moved in five minute increments. By the time we landed I was tired, stressed and ready to take a hot shower. I had no idea hot showers were a precious commodity, my instant hot water heater would become a distant dream I would think about fondly and often. We peeled ourselves off of our seats, bedraggled and tired. Baggage claim was a disappointment as one of our bags refused to show up on the conveyor. My American husband turned more Israeli as a women repeatedly touched our luggage searching for her bag and he finally quipped to her, "we don't have your bag." 

An hour later we were filling out paperwork for our missing bag as Aaron screamed in frustration. 

We wheeled all of our baggage out of the security area and walk to the book shop to meet with Eli, our driver. A tall, slender man with long payots walks up to us and asks, "Logan?" I'm surprised. Already Isreal surprises me as our driver is an Orthodox man. He helped us with our bags and takes out outside. We walk past several large, roomy modern vans and walk to up this:

Please imagine my ultimate bitchface. Imagine that glued to my face for twenty minutes as the men try to load the car. I really tried holding back bitchface. I really tried to roll with it. But as I looked back longingly at the large roomy van twenty feet behind me I can't help myself. Later Logan acknowledged he was impressed with my verbal restraint during the situation and then laughed about my bitchface. 

On the drive up to Jerusalem I remarked how impressed I am the car is actually working. I was half-joking. The driver laughed and agreed, fully serious. I was tempted to jump out of the car in terror as the elevation increased, an image of our car rolling all the way down the mountain from the weight of our belongings. Aaron, our driver, (not Eli as we were told when we negotiated a driver) received a phone call as we climbed the mountain to Jerusalem. He was informed that we were about to sit in two hours of traffic. He got off the phone, scoffed and five minutes later we were sitting in two hours of traffic. The next twenty minutes we crawled to an area of construction on the road that would allow us to do an illegal u-turn. Aaron debated and debated and decided to take the u-turn despite the police officer 30 cars ahead of us. We proceeded to watch a series of trucks and cars take the illegal u-turn in front of the police. No one was arrested. 

The two lane freeway was completely stopped, a police officer in a car behind us decided he wanted to cut through traffic. He turned on his lights and tried to ram his way through traffic. Cars refused to move. Aaron, our driver, followed the opening the cop made on the freeway - the two lane highway becoming a mash of cars with no rhyme or reason. It was total chaos. 

Finally we entered the u-turn area. The original cop was still waiting to enter the freeway running the opposite direction. A group of us sat in our cars waited for him to u-turn so we could take our turn. Aaron finally remarked he was going to get out of the car and stop traffic so the cop could finally complete his u-turn. Thankfully the cop was able to finally get on the road and we were on our way. In seconds we were driving the back way to Jerusalem. We drove through a beautiful forested area and a checkpoint where a religious Jewish community lived opposite of an Arab town. Finally we entered Jerusalem. 

Jerusalem is on a mountain, it is hills and valleys and pockets of homes and stones and people and cars and noise and history and modern and it's life. Jerusalem is a juxtaposition of old and young. Jerusalem is amazing. I was excited to finally feast on the sights of Jerusalem after nearly 2.5 years. I looked around eagerly until Aaron mumbled, "oh, the car is overheating." My heart stops. I imagine us pushing the damn car up all the mountains climbing higher and higher until we reach our home. 

To be continued.... 

Part of our extended stay in Israel required finding a new home for our doggie Emma. Months ago my sister had offered to take Emma with her to college and give her back to us once we returned from our travels. Two weeks before our family vacation to Cabo in late December, I was made aware that my sister had a change of heart. Our FedEx man who was our backup plan (he loves Emma) said he could not take Emma because his wife did not want a dog at the moment. 

I went to Cabo crushed. Emma's fate gnawed at me for the entire week. There was no way I could bring her to the pound, her fate unknown and out of my hands. I needed to make things right with my little girl. I needed to know she had a forever home. Upon returning from Cabo I wrote a facebook post which was reposted numerous times asking if anyone wanted to adopt Emma. Not one person was interested in getting a dog. 
I became desperate as the days went by and only a week was left before we had to leave our home. I decided to post on the local BabyWearing Group asking if anyone wanted a dog. The responses were immediate and wonderful. There were so many families looking for a dog to add to their home. 

Within an hour I had a family lined up to meet Emma, they were ready to make the drive that evening. However, my husband made me aware that Emma was chewing on her paw. I couldn't believe it. I found Emma a home and she decided to injure herself. I went outside and saw tears in her eyes. I messaged the family immediately and told them they would have to hold off until I took her to the vet the next day. In good conscience I could not allow her to leave my house without being in perfect health or at least under the treatment of a vet. 

The next day I took her to the vet and had to leave her there as Aaron threw an epic temper tantrum in the room. I had lost my cellphone in my car and was stressed about texting Emma's new owners and letting them know she needed to stay for treatment for a few hours before she could go home with them. By the time I got home I was stressed, worried and overwhelmed. Ten minutes later a car pulls up and a lovely young couple with a baby park in my driveway. I spend some time walking them around the property trying to kill time and get to know them before deciding whether or not they can take Emma home with them. They seem very sweet and I decide they are good candidates to take Emma home. I decided Emma would ultimately decide and if she responded well to them she could go home with them. 

Almost two hours later I drive to the vet's office and go to pick up Emma. I realize as I pay the bill this is the last time I will be Emma's mom. A pit of hurt starts to grow inside me. I choose to ignore it knowing I have no choice. I drive home and Sadie finally starts to understand that Emma will be leaving our home. Sadie starts to cry hysterically and refuses to leave the car. Meanwhile Emma is pulling to get out of the car and into the fenced area where she feels safe. I leave Sadie in the car with all the doors open and my cleaning lady who was holding Aaron for me while I went to get Emma hands me Aaron while explaining that he was crying on and off the whole time I was gone. Aaron is demanding to nurse, Sadie is wailing in the car and Emma is sniffing the new people in our front yard. 
I can see instantly that everyone is falling in love right then and there. Emma never barks, she sniffs the husband and wife and gives them her belly to rub. 

Emma is happy. 

Now I need to deal with Sadie. "Sadie, please." I repeat again and again as I try to grab her and she runs around in my car just out of reach.  I have Aaron in my hands so it's not easy to get a grip on her so I give up and walk back to the house. Minutes later she starts to wail, "I peed in my pants, I peed in my pants." 
I sigh and hand a yelling Aaron to my cleaning lady as I grab a towel .
Sadie is standing desperate and red, tears streaming down her face. She is visibly distraught. She looked at me with eyes full of deep emotions and wails that she doesn't want Emma to go home. I am lost for words. My heart is breaking along with hers. My heart breaks for me, I have to say goodbye to my dog. And worst, my heart breaks for my daughter who is aching inside. Sadie cries out. For a moment our souls reflected pain and then I grabbed her, wrapped in her in the towel and carry her into the house. I place her in the bathtub with warm running water. I grab a lollipop for her and one for her brother and I sit with her in the bathroom as she cries. I ask my cleaning lady to watch her as I go outside and tell Emma's new parents to go. 

I don't even have the opportunity to say goodbye. I can't really say goodbye. She was a good, loyal dog. A sweet and loving part of the family. I raised her from 6 weeks old and now she was going to live out the rest of her life with another family. 

But as I looked at this new family I could see Emma was going to be just fine. I went back inside and Sadie had calmed down. I let her know Emma was leaving and she asked to see her get into the car. I wrapped her in a towel and ran outside with her in my arms and watched as Emma drove off happily with her new family. 
Somehow Emma knew she had a new family and she accepted them into her heart. I have messaged back and forth with her new mom and I am relieved and elated I made the right choice for my little girl. 
Recently I saw my therapist and worked through the pain of letting Emma go. I sat there and cried for the first time. Logan was less emotional about her leaving and I was afraid to bring up her name and make Sadie cry again. As I cried I finally felt the feelings move through me. My therapist also suggested doing art therapy with Sadie to help her with the process. The next day I brought up Emma, Sadie cried and then we drew pictures together. We drew pictures of Emma and we even made up stories with Emma and a bear. Since then Sadie has not really brought up Emma or cried about her not being part of our family anymore. I feel she has also moved those feelings through her finally. 

I love Emma and I miss her every day. I think about her enthusiastic smile and happy bounce and the way she moved her ears up and down depending on her mood. And yet, I did my best to set her up with an amazing family who will love her for the rest of her life. I am sad for me and happy for her. 

Goodbye dear Emma. We love you always. 

I want to start this blog with a disclaimer. This post talks about sex. It talks about pre-marital sex and boyfriends and all kinds of unholy things that might offend some readers. You are being warned. I am so serious that this post might be really inappropriate to some people I have hidden it and you can only read it by clicking on "Read More." 

It is actually happening. Israel. One month down and counting. 

I haven't blogged in two months, I have written anything this entire time. 

Moving to Israel has overwhelmed my life. Also, Aaron has entered the stage of tantrums and clings to me incessantly. I am only blogging currently because I had the novel idea to throw him in the stroller and walk him in circles around the property until he fell asleep. I'm hitting myself for not thinking of this idea months ago. Typically I have to hold him the entire time we are home unless Sadie is home and plays with him. 

It has been quite the adventure these past few months. 

We needed to fix up some things around the house that we never finished with the remodel. Then we needed to find tenants and show the house which meant packing more than half the house in order to have an overall organized appearance. With a super clingy Aaron and an inability to focus in chaos, I needed to hire cleaning help. I found an amazing lady who came in, saw my distress and then proceeded to boss me around helping me focus, clean and get organized. 

We were blessed with a couple, the first people we showed the house to, who fell in love and decided to rent with us immediately. All of this only came together a few days ago as Christmas and New Years made it difficult to coordinate. 

Last Sunday we flew home from a week family vacation in Cabo with Logan's family. My uncontrollable anxiety and terror related to flying made both turbulent flights difficult to manage. I am not sure how I am going to fly across the country and then to Israel in a month. I am aware I need to get a handle on my fear of flying and pray I will find inner peace. 

We have one weekend, this weekend, to pack most of our house and put it in storage. By the following Sunday we will need to be vacated and patching up holes in walls and touching up paint. 

The last real difficult factor is our dog Emma. Originally my sister said she was going to take her and then a few days before we left for Cabo she decided she no longer wanted the responsibility. Our Fedex guy had told me months ago he would take Emma if we wanted him to adopt her. Well, when we contacted him he let us know his wife didn't want another dog and he needed to pass on the offer. I have a wonderful dog's life in my hands and I am really stressed. My husband does not want to take her to Israel with us, and for the sake of shalom bayis (family peace) I have to leave her behind. I refuse to bring her to the pound. I am trying every option to find her a family. 

Although there is a certain sadness for me that Aaron is getting older and we are leaving the baby years behind, I am feeling like Spring is coming to my life. A cool breeze is blowing towards me promising me freedom. I have either had a baby inside of me or attached to me for almost 5 years of my life. I am done. I am physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted. I have no more of myself to give. I feel depleted on all levels. Although my husband has been helping me immensely and given me breaks, I am worn out by the responsibility of having a baby. I am exhausted. I still do not sleep through the night. Aaron continues to nurse and cry at night. I nursed Sadie for 17 months and I am committed to nursing Aaron for the same period of time. But I can't wait to stop nursing. I resent nursing him. I resent having to bare my breasts whenever he needs comfort. 

I look forward to Aaron going to school. I look forward to working on my career. I am tired of living a life filled with laundry, cooking and children with nothing else to enrich me. I crave accomplishing goals that are important to me. My life-work balance is not there and I need it. I am no longer content as a housewife. 

I do not know what Israel will offer but I am eager and open to its gifts. 

Two nights ago I woke up at 2:30 in the morning confused. I was wide awake while Aaron was actually sleeping. My heart was pounding. I could feel the beat beat beat of my heart against my chest. I had a loop of horrible thoughts about Aaron in my mind. I was petrified he had passed away in his sleep (God forbid). I sat in my bed and refused to check on him. My inability to sleep for longer than two hours since having Sadie needed to stop. I understood I was having an anxiety attack. 

As a parent the horror stories of other parents waking up and finding their children dead has instilled a fear of the night deep within my mind. I hate the night. The quiet silence of darkness is a void where anything can happen. When we sleep we are at our most vulnerable, I almost want to take shifts at night where either Logan or I keep watch over our household. It's almost unnatural to accept a scenario where we both sleep and leave our children defenseless in a room separate from our own. I co-slept with Sadie for 2.5 years and kept her in our room for another 6 months out of fear that something could happen to her while I wasn't watching. 

When I mention my fears to other mothers, many of them more optimistic, tell me to trust in God, have faith, everything will work out. I hate to admit how little comfort I find in those words. The Torah is riddled with stories of very good people having very difficult lives. 

And then, what about the Holocaust? Or the Pogroms? Or all the amazing wonderful people in this time, this era, who have lost children or have known sorrow? I know of two different fathers with several kids each who have been killed by car accidents in the past six months. How can I have faith when bad things happen all the time? 

Obviously I believe in God. But I don't pretend to have any understanding of his ways. And I know the idea "that everything happens for a reason" - but is it a reason or is it people doing what they best - making the best out of any situation? 

Perhaps that is the ultimate answer. At the end, everything works out. 

The problem lies with my demand that everything in the end works out the way I want it to. 

Until I can reconcile my belief in God and that everything is for the good versus seeing a lot of bad in this world, I don't know how to conquer my anxiety. 
 

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Edit: Upon further consideration I realize that having faith in today's world is having faith in a broken system. We are taught that now we are in exodus and God has turned away from us. Only in the time of Moshiach (the Messiah) will we live in the world God intended for us. Where can I find peace knowing that the system itself is broken? 

One of the biggest concerns I have regarding living in Israel is the Jewish custom of married women covering their hair. 

Some groups expect women to cover their hair entirely, some are okay with only some of the hair covered, some wear scarves and others wear wigs. There is a great variety of ways to cover your hair; the only constant is the requirement you cover your hair when married. 

Last time we visited Israel I covered my hair with a hat or a scarf whenever we went to a synagogue or a religious community. I did not want to stand out or offend anyone so I covered my hair out of respect for the customs followed by the people around me. It was almost a lark learning how to cover my hair with beautiful head coverings. 

This time, it's different. 

We are spending six months in Israel and Logan wants to go study in Yeshiva and he is encouraging me to study at a seminary. I am terrified of the idea that I will have to cover my hair for six months while in Israel. At this point in time I don't want to do it. I feel that if I cover my hair only in seminary or in synagogue and then walk around the community with my hair uncovered I will be seen as a hypocrite. 

I don't know how to reconcile these two concepts - covering my hair sometimes and not pretending to be someone I'm not. I don't want to give the impression I always cover my hair when I am open to only covering my hair sometimes. 

Also, this ties in with covering my hair, I don't know what to do about clothes while in Israel. I have full intention to dress modestly (down to my knees and to my elbows) while at synagogue and at a religious community; however, I don't intend to dress like that every day. 

How can I live among religious people and still maintain my identity?