Happy Third Birthday, My Asher.

This week's parshah (Torah portion) is Vayechi, and it involves Yaakov (Jacob) blessing his sons, the 12 tribes of Israel, of which Asher is one. As Yaakov prepares to die, he provides a unique blessing for each of the tribes, assigning the tribe of Asher the role of olive growers. The olive branch symbolizes peace, and, if anything, my beautiful boy is a peace maker. He goes out of his way to make sure everyone is happy and okay, and he'll bend over backwards to help his little sister or his friends, just to put a smile on their face.

What is the significance here? Well, Sunday is Asher Yitzhak's Hebrew birthday, marking his third birthday and his entrance into Jewish responsibility. I can't believe he's already three, but I'm so excited to see the little man he'll grow into.  He's a stubborn monkey, still refusing to even think about starting to use the potty, but his imagination astounds me with froggies stuck in trees and bunnies needing help and fires popping up everywhere that need to be put out. This morning he used my sleep mask and a bag of monster bowling pins as a wrecking ball to knock down the infestation of ... pineapples. Yes, there were pineapples. Everywhere!

Last night, after the baby was in bed and Mr. T and his parents had headed out for haircuts and errands, I popped in to check on him to see if he was asleep yet. He was awake, so I went in to give him kisses and say the shema. I squished him and told him I was flattening him like a pancake because I was hungry! He giggled and squirmed and smiled and said, "Mommy, can you stay here forever?"

For all of the moments that he makes me want to pull my hair out, moments like that make me both happy and sad. Happy that my boy is so beautiful and happy and healthy and mine, but sad that I don't have more time or energy to devote to him. 

"Mommy has work to do, my love, but I'll see you in the morning," I responded. As I went to close the door, he said, "I love you Mommy" and blew me a kiss. 

These are the days. 

Before we left the house this morning, Asher gave me a light stick turned necklace and asked me to put it on. "You're a beautiful lady!" he said. 

Oh my boy, I'll eat you up, I love you so. 

The Hardest Thing About Being a Working Mom?

It has to be this.

I watched this and was both so happy and so sad at the same time. Happy because my little boy is getting so big at nearly 9 months old and because his dad was around to watch him take his first unguided steps (albeit holding on to something), but sad because I missed this moment in his development and growth.

Being a working mother sucks sometimes. My baby boy is getting so big.

How do you cope?

Still Sitting in the Catbird Seat

Back in January, when Ash was just a wee bean, I wrote about the deliciously awesome Catbird Baby carrier I'd been sent for review. With our dip into babywearing, we were exploring Moby-style wraps, Mei Teis, and Baby Bjorn-style carriers. In case you need a refresher on why "catbird" is the perfect terminology for any schlepped-about baby:

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first recorded usage occurred in a 1942 humorous short story by James Thurber titled "The Catbird Seat," which features a character, Mrs. Barrows, who likes to use the phrase. Another character, Joey Hart, explains that Mrs. Barrows must have picked up the expression from Red Barber, a baseball broadcaster, and that to Barber "sitting in the catbird seat" meant "'sitting pretty,' like a batter with three balls and no strikes on him."

It was Catbird's mei tei that I initially fell in love with when Ash was small, but as time went on and we became more mobile, the pikkolo became (and still is) my go-to carrier.

Here's Ash at four months after our trip
to the U.S. and before our move to
the U.S.He is loving his carrier because
he can see everything and every one!

When we first visited the U.S. back in February before we made the decision to move, we struggled to pack lightly when it came to baby carriers. Mr. T was fond of the moby-style wrap we'd concocted, while I was using a ring sling. While in the U.S., we even picked up an additional ring sling to replace the one I'd been borrowing, but Mr. T stuck to the stretchy wrap that I just couldn't master.

Almost the moment we got back to Israel, I feel like Ash wasn't perceptive to the ring sling, so I needed an alternative. I finally got to give the pikkolo from Catbird a try, and I haven't looked back.

When we made the move to the U.S. in April, it made life a breeze in the airport when we packed the stroller full of our carry-ons. With no space for Ash in the overflowing stroller, he rode in the Catbird seat! It's amazing how comfortable he was in it and how easy it is to get on and adjust when I'm by myself.

The most surprising thing I've found about having the Catbird pikkolo as a consistency is that Ash knows the carrier. If he's kvetching and whining in the car and losing it when we park and I get out, he calms down and gets excited the moment he sees me putting on the carrier. When he was very little, I used to call it his "special Asher chair," and he now knows that it's his special spot to see everything going on and he brightens up and calms down immediately. Talk about a baby making a positive association!

Do you have a favorite carrier? What do you like about it? Have you changed carriers as your child's needs and size have changed? 

Ask Chaviva Anything: Moving to the U.S., iBoy, and Mr. T

Because of the barrage of Mr. T, iBoy, U.S. questions, here's a catch-all installment of

Why did you move back to the US?

I thought I addressed this question in a previous post, but in case you missed it: bikur cholim.

How are you liking life back in the US? Are there things you missed here? Are there things you miss now? How is your British/Israeli husband doing with living in the US?

Life back here is interesting. There are aspects of Israel I miss desperately (the Jewish community and feeling of Shabbat), but there are things here that I find super comforting (knowing the language, finding what I need in the store, farmer's markets, the superficial things). As for Mr. T, I think he's baffled by the customer service, kindness, and options available here in the U.S. It's the land of everyTHING, so it's easy to find what you need anywhere at any price. In a way, we're being very spoiled right now.

How does Mr. T feel about being in the US? What is happening with iBoy? Is it hard being so far away from your stepson/Mr. T's son?

Mr. T is having a hard time, and really why wouldn't he? He left his almost 11 year old in the care of his mother to move to the U.S. with his wife and infant son to take care of family things. The truth is, he's viewing it as a lesson for iBoy, to see the lengths to which he would go for family. If we had to leave Israel to be with family in the UK it would be the same story, just a bit closer (a two hour time change rather than a nine hour time change). But we're working with iBoy's mother to make sure that iBoy has plenty of opportunities to spend time with us in the U.S. In fact, he'll be visiting in a few more weeks for two whole weeks! Considering the most we got to see iBoy was a few days a week back in Israel, it will be a blessing to have him around consistently for so long. But remember: iBoy's mother has full custody of him, so bringing him with us wasn't even an option, unfortunately. That choice is up to iBoy now that he's older than 10.

How is your husband handling juggling fatherhood with a son on each side of the world?

Considering he stays home three to four days a week while I go into the office to work, he's doing marvelously. He's an extremely extroverted person, so having a non-speaking infant who is teething around 24/7 hasn't driven him mad -- yet. Ash and Mr. T speak to iBoy on Skype (when his mother's computer is working) almost daily if they can manage it. But time differences, dinner plans, and other things often get in the way and make it difficult for Mr. T to speak with his son, which is incredibly hard on him. But as Ash gets older and more interactive, not to mention when Mr. T is able to work in the U.S., things will become a bit easier on everyone, I think. 

I know you said you do plan to head back to Israel at some point, but honestly, reading your blog over the past few years, the place you've always seemed unambiguously the happiest is in Colorado, while you've expressed a lot of ambivalence about life in Israel. Do you really want to go back to Israel?

It's true that I'm very happy in Colorado. The weather here does something to my emotions and psyche. I feel confident and happy and proud here. When I lived in Colorado in 2005, I was going through a bit of an awkward breakup and I found my confidence and self worth while here. When I came here after my divorce in 2011, I did the same thing. I found my happy place, I realized I was worth so much more than I ever thought I was. Now, being back, I wake up and see the sunshine and mountains and I feel like HaShem is really here. Is this the place everyone should be? Nah. It's just a place that makes sense for me. But that being said, Israel will always be the place we're meant to be. I wasn't always happy there, and I was frustrated with the language, the politics, the state of war, but you get to be Jewish in a unique way there. A way you can't be anywhere else. And that's something that is very important to me. 

On the other hand, what's going on right now in Israel makes me scared. Teenage boys being kidnapped by terrorists makes me scared. That could be my boy, my little Ash, in so many years. It could be iBoy. It could be the sons of friends of mine. That reality is horrifying. 

Yes, the U.S. is riddled with school shootings and kidnappings and horrible things, but here it's one psycho in one act of selfish psychosis. In Israel? It's a group of people with the unwavering desire to kill all Jews and destroy an entire nation. That's so much bigger, so much scarier. 

So, with all of that, I am ambivalent about life in Israel right now. Here I'm closer to my family, closer to comfort, closer to the "easy" life. But is that the kind of life I want to instill in my children and the future generations? I'm not sure. Only time will tell. 

Have questions? Ask away!

Back from the U.S. and ...

Photo taken by my mom, Debbie, at the Omaha airport before

we hopped on the first of three legs of air travel back to Israel. 

Oh hello there blog. What? I've been neglecting you? Yes, yes I have. With traveling back and forth to the U.S., work, and raising the fastest growing bundle of cute ever, I haven't been as active here on the blog as I want to be. I've got a bucketload of book reviews (including a few cookbooks of mention), a book giveaway, and tons of pictures and insights about being back in the U.S. to share. It'll take some time, but I'll get it all up. I promise.

The first and quickest thing I have to say?

Flying back into Israel, I always felt a rush of "I'm home!" in the past. Every trip I got the same sensation. This was the first time since 2009 that I saw the coastline and my thoughts turned to, "Is this really home? Is this really where I'm happiest?" I then reminded myself that home is where the heart is, and for me, home is where Ash and Mr. T are. They're here, I'm here, and thus, that's where my happiness can be found (for now anyway).

The U.S. was a time of comfort, a time where I could go to any grocery store and easily find vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free products worth eating. Where convenience foods were just that, and I didn't have to think about cooking something from absolute scratch in order to be able to eat. It seems like a shallow, superficial thing to care about, but with the diet I'm sporting these days (gluten free as always, but now without many eggs, and without any dairy) it's hard to live in Israel.

But more on that later.

Also? Adventures in breast feeding were fun. That's going to be a post, without a doubt.

Time to go snuggle with the hubsters and little one. We're all sick, so we make for good company. Happy company, that is.

That Woman: We're Heading Stateside

We're seven weeks in to life with Ash, and it's magical.

Magical.

The first few weeks are hard and exciting, then things get rough if and when baby gets colicky, so you try a few things, figure out a plan, and attack. Then baby gets better, happier, and then the cooing and moments-that-sound-like-giggles-but-aren't-exactly start and it's falling in love like the first moment all over again.

I've learned to truly appreciate the Asher Yatzar blessing that Jews recite after going to the bathroom thanking HaShem for the proper functioning of the body. With a colicky baby whose gas and reflux make him a mini Godzilla, you realize the blessing of communication and proper body function. Can you imagine not having the ability to say "it hurts here, please help me" ...? That's a baby's life.

And now, with baby having calmed down a bit, we're off to the United States so he can meet his Grandma Deb and Grandpa Bob, his Uncles John and Joe, his cousins Owynn and Oliver, and his Aunt Jess. And ... maybe, just maybe ... he'll meet another new cousin if she shows up on time.

I'm scared to death of becoming "that woman" on the plane. You know, the one with the screaming child that won't calm down. I don't sleep on planes in any circumstances anyhow, so I don't mind being up and about with Ash while Mr. T catches some Zzzzs, but being "that woman" has always been my greatest fear when it comes to parenthood.

Assuming all goes well and the three legs of the flight go according to plan, we'll be stateside on Tuesday for a few weeks in Nebraska and Colorado. I'm hoping for snow, lots of cold weather, and all of the comforts of being back in familiar surroundings (Target, gluten-free and vegan food out my ears, and the ease and quiet of a life I know well).

I'll admit I'm anxious about going home. The fact that I call it home is enough to get me lashed here in Israel, too.

When you make aliyah to Israel, you are home. Right? But I still refer to Nebraska as home. If home is where the heart is, does it mean my heart is in the U.S.? Does it mean I'm not really committed to life in Israel?

It's stupid that I'm eager to shop at Trader Joe's and pick up the gluten-free food that made life easy and liveable back in the U.S. I'm excited to go to Target where the clothes are inexpensive and fit me. I'm elated to see coworkers I haven't met yet and to spend even half a day working with them in a "normal" work environment for the first time in a year and a half. But at the same time, it isn't stupid. It's just the life I know. The life I've been comfortable with. It's the life I know how to live. Emotionally and financially.

Since Ash was born, I've been scared to death of postpartum depression because of what I've been through in the past. I've been keeping the most obsessive and close tabs on it. Luckily, I haven't been experiencing depression.

But am I happy?

There's something a little askew right now, and I'm worried that going home is going to show me that little bit that I'm missing. That nudge of what I need to feel stable. And then what?

I suppose we'll see what two weeks in the U.S. does for me. Maybe I'll have the reaction of some friends that people in the U.S. are commercially obsessed and life there is miserable. I have an inkling that it will be quite the opposite of reactions.

Either way, I hope Ash doesn't make me "that woman" on the plane. Let's start there.  

Sitting in the Catbird Seat

Note: I'm actually not wearing the carrier right here. The 

front strap around my abdomen is meant to be folded up 

and under, creating a sort of pocket for baby. D'oh! 

I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing, but this blog is quickly becoming a family-oriented mommy blog with a Jewish twist. Who would have thought when I started “Just Call Me Chaviva” nearly eight years ago that such an evolution would occur, right?

So keeping with the theme of all things baby and family, I've partnered with Chicago-based Catbird Baby to delve into the fun and versatile world of babywearing.

For those not in the know, never fear, I haven't turned Ash into a clever fascinator or stylish handbag. Babywearing is the art of schlepping your little one to and fro in one of dozens and dozens of different types of carriers. An evolution all its own, babywearing used to be the only way to tote your kid because it was allowed for work + caring for baby. Strollers (or buggies if you prefer) took over for a long time, but at some point babywearing was rekindled as all the rage, and in Israel babywearing is an art form all its own.

Mr. T and I were down with babywearing from the beginning, which for us has been convenient because the stroller we purchased is waiting for us in Nebraska, where we're heading next month to visit family and pick it up (it was 1/4 the price in the U.S. as here). Short of carrying Ash everywhere in the carseat, babywearing has been a necessity.

When wearing Ash, our hope and goal is that he'll happily feel like he's in the "catbird seat." I'll be honest: I was unfamiliar with the term before hearing about Catbird Baby, but now it makes sense when it comes to babywearing.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first recorded usage occurred in a 1942 humorous short story by James Thurber titled "The Catbird Seat," which features a character, Mrs. Barrows, who likes to use the phrase. Another character, Joey Hart, explains that Mrs. Barrows must have picked up the expression from Red Barber, a baseball broadcaster, and that to Barber "sitting in the catbird seat" meant "'sitting pretty,' like a batter with three balls and no strikes on him."

With Ash, especially because he's still so young, being bundled all close and cozy to mom or tatty is hugely important because it provides him a sense of safety and security (not to mention he falls asleep a lot quicker when he's cuddled super close). With babywearing, he's in his own catbird seat because he's reaping the benefits of that close, secure positioning that carriers like the pikkolo and mei tei provide, and that a stroller simply doesn't. I can't wait until he's a little bit older and his neck support is awesome enough that we can wear him facing forward so he really will be sitting pretty, seeing everything the world has to offer.

Stay tuned for more detailed reviews of Catbird Baby's carriers, including some thoughts from the peanut gallery Mr. T (who, by the way, doesn't like the Ergo and preferred the Moby until we got these carriers). Also: Be sure to let me know if you've got a favorite carrier!

Note: Catbird Baby has provided me with pikkolo and mei tei carriers at no charge for our blogging partnership. That being said, I did have to pay duty and VAT on the carriers once they arrived in Israel, which was a huge bummer and quite expensive. All product reviews on this blog reflect my own honest opinion, however pleasant or harsh they may be.

The Spitting Image?

In case you were wondering which one of us Asher looks the most like ...

Chin, nose, skin pigment, hair, oh my! The eyes are a spitting image of mine, too, although you can't tell because Ash's asleep in this. 

The Boy and His Name

Yes, in true English style, our baby showed up to 

his brit in suspenders and a bow tie!

On Thursday, we had the brit milah for our son. Yes, that's circumcision for the squeamish and a covenantal commitment for those of us in the Jewish world.

The wee one didn't cry much (about the same as he cries when we're changing his diaper), but boy oh boy did this mama cry plenty when she heard those cries. The truth is babies cry during their brit out of the sheer fact that they're exposed to cold air, not from pain. Watching the recovery process over the past few days, I can tell you that this little man is in no pain at all. Except, of course, for the chill of the air when it's diaper time.

During the brit milah ceremony, the baby's name is finally announced, and I'm happy to share that our beautiful boy is named Asher Yitzhak, meaning "happy laughter." The latter name was Mr. T's grandfather's name and the first name was a name that both Mr. T and I fell in love with ages ago long before the idea of this baby or one another was planted.

For me, the name Asher, meaning happiness, perfectly describes this baby, as he encompasses true happiness. After a long and winding road of ups and downs and crazy madness, HaShem gave me Mr. T, and I found my happiness. Little Asher is that happiness manifest, as evidenced by how very quickly we got pregnant after getting married. I think HaShem was rewarding the both of us for time well spent doing teshuva and searching for that happy we all deserve.

Of course, this little baby being 10 days old and mostly peaceful natured has been a huge blessing. But it would seem that those first few nights at home of the five-hour stretch of sleep are long gone and a few of the "I'll never do that" rules I set for myself have already been very broken. Constant feedings for a baby in perpetual growth-spurt mode have me exhausted and in a bit of a fog, but content none the less knowing it all goes by so quickly. I'm actually writing this post in our now-dark bedroom because this happens to be where the baby fell asleep (finally) after a feeding. Much like how we must bend to the Torah (the Torah does not bend to our needs and wants), I'm in a position of bending to the baby because gosh knows that mommy wanting a shower is not top priority for an adorably squiggling little lump of baby.

I'm still preparing the labor story, and I'm still preparing to figure out how to approach getting into a rhythm with work, especially on days like today when baby just doesn't want to sleep after a hearty helping of mother's milk. I mean, who wouldn't go into a coma after that? I know, I know. "Take it easy!" everyone says. But it's tough. The baby's food might be free, but mommy and tatty have to eat, too. I'm seriously considering taking Mr. T up on his "stay-at-home tatty" offer.

The sun has set, the baby shivers, and mommy types away. This is motherhood. And I wouldn't have it any other way.