I visited Israel: And This is How It Felt

Here's me at Startup HQ in Tel Aviv. 

I wrote this while sitting on the plane in Israel during boarding. These are the days I miss, when words just spill out of me like the overflowing havdalah cup on Saturday nights. It doesn't always happen like this, but when it does, I know I'm getting close to being back to my happy place. 

When I made aliyah back in 2012, I had two — count 'em two — solid jobs. I was pretty sure that neither would let me go, because both were Jewish organizations and I was, after all, moving to Israel. Then, just a few months after arriving in Israel and meeting Mr. T, I was let go without much ceremony. It was heartbreaking. I got married, I got pregnant, and I was jobless. I picked up some freelance content writing work through connections, I applied for several full-time jobs in the tech sector doing stuff I didn’t want to do, and I turned down a few jobs because I couldn’t handle the soul-sucking possibilities.

I spent the second half of my time in Israel underemployed and mostly broke. It was incredibly depressing and demoralizing. My English was great and a definite plus, but my Hebrew wasn’t good enough to make it in most workplaces.

For the longest time, my biggest worry about returning to Israel has been the financial one. Everyone says where there’s a will, there’s a way, but I refuse to live in poverty, constantly in the red, wondering how I’m going to buy groceries. I’ve done it in Israel. I’ve done it in the U.S. I refuse to do it again — and I refuse to live on credit.

During my trip this past week to Israel, I was supposed to spend a day touring the Old City and Har Ha’Bayit. I found out last minute that I can’t visit Har Ha’Bayit without visiting the mikvah first, and then our rabbi said it was a blanket “no” for visiting anyway. There were three other tracks, and I opted for the one that seemed least attractive: a high-tech day in startup nation in Tel Aviv. Some of the people I’d really connected with on the trip were heading on that track, so I said okay, and we were off.

We met with some really fascinating people (and one guy who wasn’t so fascinating) and I ended up realizing that, since leaving Israel, I’ve acquired quite a bit of experience in fields that could — and should — make me marketable in Israel now.

Not only did I spend nearly two years working for a hardware IoT startup that I took to market, but I’ve also been working in inbound marketing and all it entails as a copywriter and editor. My English is 100, and with the right time and patience, my Hebrew can get back to where it was.

As the tour guide said when I told him my recent experience, he said that people would be doing backflips to hire me. Now’s the time to come back, he said.

My ultimate dream is that Tesla opens an office in Israel and Mr. T can put in for an easy transfer and that my job, in which the entire company is remote, will let me work from Israel as long as is humanly possible. I’m just thinking about all of the potential business my company could acquire in Israel.

My wheels are spinning, and I’m considering carefully and thoughtfully what a return to Israel looks like. It’s so funny that I arrived and spent two or three days thinking to myself that a return to Israel with my three monkeys and husband in tow was an impossibility. And then, at some point, the magic of Israel, of the place, the people, it all hit me hard and I can think of nothing other than a quick return.

So, we’ll see how/where things go. Mr. T would drop everything tomorrow to move back. I, on the other hand, am much more practical and have to consider all the variables — financial chief among them.

And now? Time to buckle up for wheels up on my way back to the U.S. L’hitraot Yisrael (see ya Israel).

---

Here is something I wrote while visiting the Kotel (aka the Western Wall, and please don't call it the "wailing wall"), I wrote this in a moment of overwhelming emotion in which I felt like my breath had been knocked out of me and my heart leapt out of my chest. I was crying, overwhelmed, more so than I've ever been at the Kotel. I don't know what or why, but something was happening. 

Pigeons pining for our prayers

Pecking away at souls they know are there

Digging deeper into walls of stone

Finding comfort in this place we long to call home. 

Heartsick and the breath stolen

From my breast I can’t breath,

I can’t speak, can't see,

Because all there is is stone.

---

Want to ask me something? Click here: Ask away!

Reviving a Bygone Era: Poetry

Once upon a time, I wrote a lot of poetry. For ages, I was convinced I was going to be a poet. I went into university as an English major set on the idea of being an intellectually advanced poetry-composing artist. My dreams were swept under the rug after a visit to my dentist. Yes, during that visit I saw an English diploma hanging on her wall, and, after asking her about it, I decided that I absolutely was not going to go down the path of a wasted degree (but honestly, a necessarily evil, they're all pretty much wasted these days).

I did my best to continue writing, doing slam poetry, trying to keep my mind nimble, but somewhere along the line (during my first marriage) I fell out of love with it. I miss poetry, I miss being able to sit down and the words just flowing like they were already out there in existence and I was merely recording them (think: the Oral Torah) for future generations.

On that note, here's an oldie but a goodie that I once penned in the days when I was generically Missouri born and Nebraska grown Amanda Edwards, shortly before my Reform conversion.

Shmutzik

I fill the shoes of a Jew, and the

wind that floats by your face may be a piece of

me.  but I am no longer in a ghetto.  for now,

they say.  I am in the shul, next to you where you ponder

how history has repeated itself.  I feel like

repetition, with your fingerprint on my history.

northern Africa, Poland, Germany … history moves like

water in its cycle.  changing, but always coming

back to it’s primary form.

and you walk past me as if you can smell it on me,

like fresh matzo or kosher wine.

perhaps I have the nose, the nose that seems to run,

everyone thinks, in centuries of g-d’s chosen.

or maybe you smell on me gelt, centuries

of money lenders and bankers. used and tossed

aside as needed and beckoned upon by kings and

other gentiles. you know it’s christianity’s history

that swore Jews to the money trade.

but it is merely the badge I wear on my arm,

this g-d forsaken yellow badge.  the chutzpah

of the goy who invented such a symbol, a mark

of some kind of chaye.  centuries after it was

created it is stapled to the skin of everyone who

was promised the holy land, who cherishes the

Sabbath and lives respectfully for and of life.

i didn’t kill your g-d.  Jesus was a liberal Jew.

do you notice that for centuries my community

has wanted nothing more than to live in peace?

and we are created and destroyed by being moved,

expelled, killed, murdered, our precious objects

of Passover and holy days stolen and ruined.

my halakah has been forked by your history.

museums are the resting place for my history, my

blood, my memories are kept in plastic boxes

with little cards and dates that mean nothing but to

say this is when a branch broke, a leaf fell, a vine

was ripped from it’s place and made to forget.

my torah, your book, my Talmud, your prayer,

your weapon, my words. my death, your hand.

my mother tells me I am merely a luftmensh, blind

to what will happen to my people someday. she

says to me, ‘my little bubbala, you know that

history has murdered a memory, soon the memory

will be murdered as well.’  we are all g-d’s chosen.

fershtay? do you understand? there is no rachmones

for anything my history has done for your present.

but history has learned nothing of itself, and I remember

everything of it, as it is in my blood, my eyes, my nose,

my fingers.  i breathe and sigh history’s mistakes everyday.

so let us lomir redn mamaloshn.

12 million voices, half murdered.

ashes to ashes, dust to dust, dirt to shmutzik.

you or I, it makes no difference.

little key:

shmutzik: dirt

shul: school

matzo: the bread made during Passover

gelt: money

gentiles: non-Jews

chutzpah: nerve, gall

chaye: beast

halakah: path (in Judaism)

Torah/Talmud: key Jewish books

luftmensh: someone with their head in the clouds

bubbala: darling

fershtay: do you understand?

rachmones: compassion

lomir redn mamaloshn: literally, “let’s talk Yiddish” or “get to the point”

Israel: Everything is the same.

step out to cough, smoke
step out to breath, garbage strewn.
are they happy? no.

I Suck at Sticking to Things, but I'm Good at Being a Social Introvert

So ... you remember that time I said, it's a new year! It's 5779! This is the year I blog every single day!

Yeah. That didn't happen. The thing is, when it takes 20 to 30 days to create and maintain a good habit, how do you get to that point to actually make the habit stick? Maybe I'm just not at a time in my life where it makes sense. By the time my brain has settled down even a little bit and I can start thinking about the things I want to write for the sake of my own verbal bliss, I'm usually in bed, too tired to sit up, and my brain just spins and spins and spins. The hamster runs at light speed when I'm supposed to be sleeping. I have the most amazing ideas, the most profound thoughts. And then I get really angry at myself because I don't have the energy to get up, get my computer, and put fingers to keyboard and make something happen.

So I'm not going to do resolutions or promises or commitments to do X every Y number of days. My husband kept asking me if I was going to start learning Daf Yomi, as I was so inspired by If All the Seas Were Ink, but I didn't. I can't. I won't. I don't have the time. I literally cannot pen in a specific time every day to make it happen. In my line of work, calls come up, people need things sporadically,  and I simply don't have the willpower to wake up at 5 a.m. every day before everyone is awake to commit to it.

Basically? I suck at resolutions. I blame being a mommy. Scratch. I blame it on being a working mommy.

When I was single and living in D.C. and then Chicago, I sat and went through the weekly Torah portion every single week like a gangster of gemara. I was good at it, I kept to it, it was my thing. I look back at that girl and think, "DAMN girl. You go. You go girl. You get your learn on."

So enough about my inability to stick to anything for more than five seconds, let's talk about me being a ridiculous introvert.

A few days ago I was standing at the local King Soopers in the self-checkout lane. I go to the self-checkout religiously (like, I'm better at sticking to my ability to self-checkout than to write) because it prevents me from having to engage with strangers. Even when I have a coupon or run into an error or need my ID checked, the interaction is non-verbal and quick. It's bearable. But when I was standing there on a Sunday and the store was busy and the self-checkout was packed, someone walked up to me and said, "I can help you on number 11, ma'am."

I was playing on my phone, and I froze. I had two options:

• Tell the nice checkout guy that I was intentionally waiting in line and to leave me to my mobile device, pretty please. 
• Take the nice checkout guy up on his offer and have to engage in conversation and awkward smiles and unwanted dialogue and ... my worst nightmare. 

The reality of having to explain that I was happy to be anti-social and wait in the line was too unbearable so I went through the guy's checkout lane and it was just as awkward and unwanted as I thought it would be. 

Thanks, but no thanks. 

But then there was the few days over the Jewish holiday season where we had guests over and it was wonderful. I was, undoubtedly, exhausted after people left, because that's what being social does to me. It drains every last ounce of energy and strength I have. But it was so nice, I remembered why I loved to host. During the year, we never host because our house is too tiny. But when we can move outside and into the sukkah, we have an actual dining room people! Space to have multiple people and families over. So we invited friends over, the kids played in the backyard, people spent all afternoon with us, and it was great. I fed people, I talked, I schmoozed. It felt good.

View this post on Instagram

Chag sameach! #sukkot #beingjewish #sukkah #colorado #denver #itwascoldthismorning

A post shared by Chaviva Gordon-Bennett (@thechaviva) on Sep 27, 2018 at 4:43pm PDT

I'm an odd duck, honestly. I crave interaction and desire to be included in social activities and outings, but at the same time I do absolutely nothing to include myself or inject myself into the lives of my friends. 

I know there's a name for it -- social introversion -- but I also struggle with it making sense to people. Everyone says how great I get along with people and how social I am, but the physical and emotional toll it takes is what people don't see. 

So now we're back to the regular year where we're back inside our house and can't host anymore. I'm both relieved and disappointed. I wish we had the space to bring in friends every few weeks. Our kids love it. And sometimes, just sometimes, the mess their friends bring with them is worth it. Until next Sukkot ... 

#MomLife: Yom Kippur Edition

Zusha and the Big Fish!

Now that we're well stuffed with the gluten-free lasagna I made, it's time to start shutting things down, bathing everyone, and getting ready to shut down for the most important day on the Jewish calendar. I have to mention that the lasagna was actually made for Shabbat lunch, but our plata didn't turn on, so we had to have challah, lox, and cream cheese instead, so I decided to heat it up for our erev Yom Kippur meal. Why? Well, the traditional pre-Yom Kippur meal includes kreplach, which are little meat-stuffed dumplings. The idea behind them is that the meat is "hidden," and it comes from this verse in Isaiah 1:18:

“Come, let us reach an understanding, —says the LORD. Be your sins like crimson, They can turn snow-white; Be they red as dyed wool, They can become like fleece.”

Meat = red. White = the pasta. Boom! Except that we don't do meat, but the spinach and sun-dried tomatoes were hidden between layers of pasta. It works! IT WORKS!

Anyway. Am I ready? No. Does it matter? No. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. But you know me. I know me. It does matter, but I'm trying really hard to not let it matter.

Yom Kippur is hard. Neither Mr. T nor I fast well, and we've got three small kids who need us to be at our very best all. day. long. So, I'm trying to pull some understanding and forgiveness to myself based on this article on Chabad.org:

Let go of expectations for how a “real” Yom Kippur should look like. There are many ways to honor and celebrate Yom Kippur, and each year will be different, depending on the ages and needs of your children, as well as your own physical and emotional capabilities. Intense prayer may be out of the question for you, but you will still be experiencing Yom Kippur to its fullest.
The sages tell us that on Yom Kippur, itzumo shel yom mechaper—the essence of the day atones for us. Regardless of our prayers, meditation or hard work, Yom Kippur itself reveals that part of us that is always connected to G‑d, the part that doesn’t need to do anything or be anything other than what it is. This is our etzem, our essence.
Spending the day caring for your children is no less G‑dly than spending it in the synagogue. Wherever you are, you are at one with G‑d.

So, here I am, pounding Little Secrets and water instead of, well, anything else. My husband is bathing the kids, I put the baby down for bed, and now I'm anticipating what 5779 holds for me and whether I can honestly and truly commit to Daf Yomi while also blogging every day. 

It's all about carving time out, having a schedule, prioritizing. Things I'd like to prioritize better? My husband, my kids, my self-care, my learning, my career growth, my happiness, my health. It's about time that I put everything in perspective and start prioritizing what matters. And the nice thing? I think my job gives me that space. I just have to take advantage of it and stop treating every work assignment like it's the end of the world. 

Anyway, candle lighting is coming soon, and it's time to sip the last of my water and refocus myself for Yom Kippur. To really think about who I am, to celebrate these moments where we are closest to HaShem. 

“For on this day He will forgive you, to purify you, that you be cleansed from all your sins before G‑d" (Leviticus 16:30).

As I plead for forgiveness, I also ask for strength to be inscribed in the book of life in the year to come. 

I'm wishing one and all a g'mar chatimah tovah -- may you be inscribed in the book of life and have a meaningful fast. Catch you on the other side!

Haiku for the Jewish Mom with a Full-Time Job

Twelve hour workday.
Coming in, close to midnight.
I see Yom Kippur.

Ari Fuld, and Living it All on Loan

There is a Midrash on Proverbs 31:10, and it goes like this:

Beruriah was the learned and compassionate wife of Rabbi Meir. While Rabbi Meir was teaching on a Shabbat afternoon, both of his sons died from the plague that was affecting their city. When Rabbi Meir returned home, he asked his wife, “Where are our sons?” She handed him the cup for havdalah and he said the blessing. Again he asked, “Where are our sons?” She brought food for him, and he ate. When he had finished eating, Beruriah said to her husband, “My teacher, I have a question. A while ago, a man came and deposited something precious in my keeping. Now he has come back to claim what he left. Shall I return it to him or not?” Meir responded, “Is not one who holds a deposit required to return it to its owner?” So she took his hand and led him to where their two children lay. He began to weep, crying “My sons, my sons.” She comforted him, “The Lord gave, the Lord took. Y’hei sh’mei rabah mevorach, May the Name of the Lord be blessed…”

I bookmarked the discussion of this particular midrash this past Shabbat as I finished up If All the Seas Were Ink by Ilana Kurshan. It felt so powerful to me, the discussion of how all that we have is merely on loan from HaShem. 

Even further is a discussion in the sixth chapter of Berachot over the blessings over foods. At once it attempts to reconcile the fact that "the heavens are the Lord's and the fullness thereof, the earth and its inhabitants" (Psalms 24:1) and that "the heavens belong to God and the earth was given to men" (Psalms 115:16). While later Rabbi Hanina bar Papa says, "All who benefit from this world without first staying blessing are as if they are stealing from the Holy One Blessed Be He" (35b).

The reconciliation for this, Rabbi Levi explains, is that everything in the world belongs to HaShem, but the moment we make a blessing, it's on loan to us. 

This discussion was so powerful to me, so potent because I struggle intensely with making berachot. One of the things that drew me to Judaism was the level of 100-percent consciousness that is required of the Torah-observant Jew. So I marked this page, it made so real the idea that all that we have is on loan from HaShem, we only need make a bracha, a blessing, in order to take pleasure of it, to enjoy it, to truly be able to cherish something -- or someone. 

And then, this morning, I awoke exhausted after going to bed around 1:30 a.m., turned on my phone, and started looking through my news feed. The first thing I saw? A distant friend, someone who helped me greatly when I made aliyah, someone who was a Lion of Zion, someone who would lay his life down for any person who was on the right side of history ... had been murdered, viciously, by a Palestinian terrorist at the very place I used to go to buy groceries or get a coffee many times every week. My immediate reaction was that I had to be mistaken. Ari, Ari who basically spends 24/7 -- or spent -- at that place in Gush Etzion speaking with soldiers and providing them with chizuk and food and other special gifts from his fundraising -- couldn't have been murdered. He was a soldier. He knew that place inside and out. And yet, there he was. There was the video. The video of him being stabbed by a vicious animal -- not a human, not anyone I would remotely call a human -- and then chasing after him, poised, shooting at the savage, and then collapsing backwards. 

There's something about watching a friend, someone you know, someone who you watch regularly from a distance be murdered ... that just crushes every possible understanding and love you have for life. For Israel. 

And then, as the day went on, and I fought between anger and tears and confusion and the question, "Could I ever take children back to that place?" And then I thought about what I'd bookmarked on Shabbat. About how this life is just on loan from HaShem, and we have to be grateful and send out as many blessings as we can every moment of every day to keep these lives and all that are part of them on loan. For it's all we have. 

Haikus for a Shabbat Afternoon

Although I have much to write about, especially after finishing If All the Seas Were Ink, I want to keep this short and sweet as I have much to do this evening. Here is my Shabbat in a series of Haikus:

Sleep? I try so hard.
Toss and turn, flip and groan. Sigh.
My mind does not stop.

A quiet morning.
Kids at shul with Mister T.
Head in a book -- peace.

I promise myself
when they return I will breathe
and stay calm, happy.

The plata? Not on.
Looks like lasagna will wait.
Lox, cream cheese it is.

The whirlwind arrives,
overwhelming my senses.
I embrace crazy.

Everyone naps now.
Fast, I put head to pillow.
A cry -- poor timing.

Finishing a book
feels like fresh, warm laundry
on my skin at last.

The sky turns black-blue.
The flame flickers bright before
spices are inhaled.

Shavua tov, you.
You who dreams of eternal
shabbat and shalom.

And that, friends, is Shabbat in Haikus with Chaviva. Shavua tov!

Parashat Vayelech is Coming ... and My Daughter is Eating Soap!

Oh how I love these two crazy blond monkeys. 

I'm two days into my self-care regimen of writing every day, and as Shabbat approaches I'm feeling stressed. This is the opposite of self-care, right? Self-care is supposed to be relaxing, rejuvenating, refreshing ... calming?

Instead, I'm sitting in the bathroom on a tiny Target clearance chair from last season trying to give my daughter a bath. I go to quickly wash her hair and body using one of those pouf things and she, my 2 year old wild child, dips her finger in the soap and takes a big lick.

"No! That's soap! We don't eat soap!"

I've taken a brief moment to recognize that I say "we" like the royal "we" and every time I do I think, "Good lord I'm one of those parents." But it always just comes out. "We don't do this, we don't do that." Why is that? Maybe another time.

"But mommy, it's yummy! Yummy soap!"

She didn't even cringe. She didn't make a face. She enjoyed the soap. She asks for more, and I have to remind her, "Don't eat it!"

I had really wanted to sit down and read this week's parashah, Vayelech, and try to do some learning, but like all well-laid plans, that one fell apart before 10 a.m. In the time that I probably could have sat down and turned everything off and read the portion and tried to glean something meaningful and relevant, I was running to the dry cleaners (I forgot to take stuff before Rosh HaShanah and felt like a jerk) and to the store to pick up a few loaves of sourdough for Shabbat.

And now we're on the couch. T is watching Daniel Tiger and I'm trying to suss out something from the parashah. Here we have Devarim 31:16-18:

And they will forsake Me and violate My covenant which I made with them.
And My fury will rage against them on that day, and I will abandon them and hide My face from them, and they will be consumed, and many evils and troubles will befall them, and they will say on that day, 'Is it not because our God is no longer among us, that these evils have befallen us?'
And I will hide My face on that day, because of all the evil they have committed, when they turned to other gods.

The thing is, I've been having a hard time connecting lately. To the universe, to HaShem, to my family, to my work, to just about everything. Everything feels big, overwhelming, exhausting, like I'm walking in sand. I have these moments of pure clarity where I feel caught up, calm, like I'm finally getting somewhere, but then I just get overwhelmed again. 

I look at these verses like most people probably do: I did something bad, I'm being punished, HaShem is a million miles away and more. You can expand it and look at global warming, disease, murder, poverty, and every other major catastrophe and wonder, "What did we do?"

When I'm having a hard time, I have to remind myself that Judaism, my core set of beliefs, my religion, my internal dialogue, my heart, my soul, are not qualified by an "if, then" statement. If I don't daven (pray) every day then HaShem will make me feel despair and loneliness. If I don't remember to make all of the right brachot (blessings) over food, then HaShem will make me feel empty and sad and unappreciated. It just doesn't work like that. It's a hard reality, but that's the reality. Yes, if you rob a bank, then you'll go to jail. If you smash into someone's car, then you'll have to pay damages and potentially go to jail. But the Torah doesn't work that way, not exactly. 

The truth is, those other gods that we turn to, those other gods that we worship and covet that send HaShem into a fury and disrupt the equilibrium that we all so desire in this totally jacked up world varies from person to person. They're not literal gods. Our gods are money, the newest phone, brand new clothes, the nicest car, the most organic and non-GMO foods we can't afford. Our gods are jealousy and vanity and anger and everything else that we let consume us on a daily basis. That's what sends HaShem into a fury, that's when He hides his face and makes us feel like we've been completely abandoned. 

At least once every few weeks, I have this conversation with Asher:

A: Mommy, how did people destroy HaShem's house when it's in the sky?

Me: Well, at one time it was in Jerusalem. That's where HaShem talked to us and we heard Him. 

A: Oh. And then they destroyed it?

Me: Yup. And now we're waiting to rebuild it. 

A: Well, I already rebuilt it. 

Me: You did?

A: Yeah, I built it, and now I can hear HaShem every day. 

I feel like, if only I had such a clear, beautiful view of the world, I'd feel less overwhelmed, less like I'm constantly being punished for not doing enough of the Jewish stuff because I'm doing so much of the being an adult stuff. It's one of the reasons, I think, that while reading Ilana Kurshan's If All the Seas Were Ink, that I started to have a physical reaction to reading about her experiences in Israel. Living in Israel, learning in Israel, living the dream I once dreamed and lived so vividly. Part of me thinks that if I were living back in Israel, all of the ways that I'm feeling empty and lacking would be filled up again. But then I remember that what I feel here is what I'll feel there, our baggage is internal and it follows us around -- it's not location specific, Chavi!

Anyway, this has been really, really long and wandering. I'm not sure what my ultimate point is, which, as a writer, makes me feel a bit like I suck at my job. But hey, I fulfilled my push to write every day! Day three down. Stay tuned for a post-Shabbat post when maybe I'll have something coherent to say about it being Shabbat Shuvah and how this entire post was perfectly on-theme!

Shabbat shalom and g'mar chatimah tovah -- may you be inscribed in the book of life!

A New Year, A New Plan for Self-Care ... Chaviva Style

My #adulting face.

I'm at the magical stage of adulthood where I have three kids under the age of 5 years old, I'm working full-time, I have zero time or energy for my very patient spouse, and I've got side hustles in the form of pro-bono work for discounts on things like childcare. Whew. Being a modern, millennial mom sucks hardcore, hardcore like my daughter trying desperately to get that sucker off the stick (and failings and me having to rip it out of her mouth, because #chokinghazard, and yes, tears follow).

One of the biggest places in my life that I'm feeling like I'm really failing hasn't changed since, well, forever, and that is self-care. Now, I know what you're thinking: Take your avocado toast and craft coffee in a reusable mug and stick your self-care up your yoga-pantsed tuches. Right? The truth is self-care has always been a "thing." It's just manifest itself in many different ways throughout time, and it's most often been the luxury of classes that had the time and money to actually take some time off from the rigors of running a household or rearing children or running a business to actually engage in proper self-care.

The term first popped up in 1841 and this is the definition that M-W.com offers:

I like that Merriam-Webster had the sense to point out the need for self-care for busy parents, but that health care bit is interesting and unsuspecting, I think. I'm guessing what the definition means here is that a lot of parents will pursue self-care such as massage or acupuncture or chiropractor or medicinal marijuana or CBD or something else that you should consult with a doctor about but you don't necessarily need to consult with your doctor about. After all, so much about being a parent is physically exhausting, from carrying your kids around to carrying their stuff around to carrying yourself around after carrying all their crap around. By the end of each day of Rosh HaShanah, if I stopped and sat for even a few minutes, standing up was the most painful thing since childbirth.

Anyway, back to the point: self-care. I suck at it. 

I'm not the kind of person to get a manicure or a pedicure or go to a spa or sit down on a weekday to read a book or take a bath or just "chill" or "meditate" or anything that resembles the common approach to self-care. I spend most of my day on other peoples' time tables, so the moment my kids are in bed, the house is clean, and lunches are made, I usually just want to take a shower and go to bed.

The closest thing I get to self-care and "me time" is that ... well ... don't tell anyone ... but ... I watch shows on my iPhone in the shower.

I know, I know. Danger! It's going to fall in the water! It'll get wet! It'll get ruined! And I'm probably jinxing myself by even putting this out into the universe, but it's literally the only time of day I have to catch up on TV.

In fact, I'm writing this, right now, at 8:09 p.m. from a Starbucks near my house because I'm supposed to be working on the side hustle and finishing up an e-book for my full-time gig. Instead, here I am, talking about my new plan for self-care.

You'll be happy to know that my plan includes not watching shows in the shower because I really should just be relaxing and being mindful and focusing on shaving and not having to listen to screaming children (although, let's be honest, seven times out of ten halfway through the shower someone is screaming and I have to cut 'er short).

My plan for 5779, this brand new Jewish year, is to blog every. single. day.  Hold me to it. Keep me accountable. Is anyone even out there still reading this? I don't care! I mean, I do care, but that's not the point. 

And yes, I know: I'm writing this post at night and it's going to post tomorrow because I already wrote for today, but my goal is to have a piece of content on this blog every single day for the entirety of 5779 because this blog, this place, this space, was for so long the air in my lungs. I couldn't breathe without putting fingers to keyboard, the virtual pen to paper. And I miss it, I miss it something fierce.

All those months ago when I got my amazing copywriting gig, my dream was that it would bring me back to writing more regularly here. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened. Because I'm an adult with responsibilities to everyone around me.

The side effect of postpartum hormones + parenting + a full-time job + not having the space to be the kind of wife and mother I'd like to be + everything else swimming around my head = a Chaviva that is tired, exhausted, strained, stressed, unhappy, overwhelmed, and full of feelings of failure and the inability to get ahead and get it right.

So, basically, setting a goal and attempting to prioritize self-care in the form of writing is my attempt to find my happy. Over the past year, if there is one thing our family has learned, it's that if I'm happy, then Mr. T is happy, then everyone is happy.

I also started reading Ilana Kurshan's If All the Seas Were Ink, and I'm debating starting Daf Yomi, but I'm thinking that might be too many commitments for one year. I started reading the book last Shabbat, and something really bizarre (amazing? brilliant? unexpected?) happened to me both physically and emotionally while I was reading it. I felt a longing for Israel I haven't felt in years and also felt connected to something big, something vast. But that's for another blog post. Maybe tomorrow.

Stay tuned, and please, if anyone out there is still reading this, keep me accountable, mmkay?

Recipe: Pumpkin-Pomegranate Muffins (Gluten Free)

I attempted to be crafty. It kind of worked.

Although Rosh HaShanah is now behind us, I figure it's never too late to share a delicious recipe featuring two of the simanim or symbols for the holiday that we say a special yehi ratzon over. The origin for this practice comes from the Talmud Masechet Kritut (6a)!

"Abaye said: ‘Now that you have said that an omen is a significant thing, [a person] should always be accustomedto seeing / to eating at the beginning of the year (on Rosh HaShanah) a gourd, green beans, leek, beets and dates'." 

And thus, the Rosh HaShanah "seder." The yehi ratzon prayers translate as "“May it be your will, HaShem our G-d and the G-d of our forefathers…” followed by each of the different simanim that we eat during Rosh HaShanah, which include:

• Apples dipped in honey, that we be renewed for a good and sweet new year
• Leeks, that our enemies be decimated
• Carrots, that our merits increase
• Beets, that our adversaries be removed
• Dates, that our enemies be consumed
• Gourd (pumpkin), that the decree of our sentance be torn up and may our merits be proclaimed before you
• Pomegranate (seeds), that our merits increase like (the seeds of) a pomegranate
• Fish, that we be fruitful and multiply like fish
• Fish head, that we be as the head and not as the tail.

So, this year, wanting to be as streamlined as possible because we try to work the simanim into our meal rather than having an actual "seder" or ceremony like many do (think: the Passover seder, but shorter and tastier), I decided to combine things! 

Our dinner for the first day of Rosh HaShanah included:

• Pumpkin-Pomegranate Muffins
• Apples and honey
• Tzimmes with sweet potatoes, carrots, and dates
• Roasted beets
• Salmon loaf
• Gummy fish "heads"
• Split pea soup (the leeks were in here)
• Round sourdough loaf

Second night looked like this:

• New fruit
• Apples and honey
• Pumpkin-Pomegranate Muffins
• Tzimmes
• Gummy fish "heads"
• Split pea soup (leeks)
• Fish pie (featuring the carrots and the fish)

And now for the recipe! It's gluten free, and the pumpkin made these so incredibly moist I can't even begin to describe to you how light and flavorful they were. I even gave one to a neighbor who raved about the fact that, come on, "They don't even taste gluten free!"

This recipe makes about 15 muffins, which, I know, is weird. Basically I made a dozen regular-sized muffins + two large muffins, but just know that you can double this to make 30 regular-sized muffins or just use the recipe as is for roughly 15. 

Ingredients

• 1.5 cups Cup4Cup-brand gluten-free flour
• 1 Tablespoon pumpkin pie spice
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 1.25 cups granulated sugar
• 1/2 can (7.5 ounces) pure canned pumpkin
• 2 large eggs
• 1/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1/4 cup orange juice
• 3/4 cup frozen pomegranate seeds 

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and prepare your muffin pan. I prefer silicone because it doesn't require greasing and these muffins slide out with ease.
2. Combine flour, pumpkin pie spice, baking soda and salt in large bowl. 
3. Combine sugar, pumpkin, eggs, oil, and orange juice in large stand mixer and beat until just blended. 
4. Add flour mixture to the pumpkin mixture and stir until just moistened. 
5. Pour the batter into the prepared muffin cups until each is 3/4 full. Note: You'll have some extra, so save it for a second round or fill larger muffin tins for a few extra. 
6. Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Note: It took me a few additional minutes, but I'm at elevation, so just be conscious and set your timer for 25 minutes and keep checking back in. 

I wouldn't keep these on the counter for too long, but they are DELICIOUS straight out of the fridge. They also freeze really well. As a variation, you could bake this in a loaf pan for a great pumpkin-pomegranate bread, too. 

Do you do the traditional Rosh HaShanah "seder"? Or do you work the simanim into your meal? How do you combine the different foods to streamline your meal? 

Kosher Toddler Lunch Ideas for the Bento and Beyond

I recently joined a Facebook group filled with mommies much like myself who struggle to pack exciting meals every single day of every week for the lovable little monsters we call children! Well, I'd already started photographing my lunch creations, mostly because I'm an avocado-toast-loving millennial who can't get enough of Instagramming my food (or my kids' food in this case). So here are some of my go-to kosher toddler lunch ideas that I pack for my 4.5 year old and 2 year old. I can't wait until Zusha is on solids. I'm going to go bananas with his lunches, too!

Kosher Toddler Snack Ideas

I usually pack my kids two morning snacks and two afternoon snacks, because they're in preschool from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. each day, and, let's be honest, they are growing like weeds and never stop eating. I usually pack these combos in reusable sandwich-size bags that are labeled with their name and are machine washable for when they get super gross. Here are my favorite combos:

• Applesauce packet + Trader Joe's fruit and grain bars
• Pirate's Booty + fruit strips
• Cheese crackers + banana or pear
• Mini pretzels + fruit cup
• Mini muffins + applesauce packet

You get the idea! Believe it or not, they rarely come home with uneaten snacks. 

Kosher Toddler Lunch Ideas for Preschool

When it comes to lunches, I try to give my kids a little bit of everything: fruit, vegetable, protein, grain. I don't always achieve this massive goal, but I do a pretty good job. You'll see that I put a yogurt with every single meals and that's because it's one thing my kids will always consistently eat, which is my number one pro tip for packing a toddler's lunch: Always pack one thing you KNOW they will eat no matter what else is in the box. Here are some visuals on lunches I've put together lately: 

My kids eat better than I do! @noosayoghurt @gogosqueez @snyders_hanover #palisadepeaches #momlife #colorado #bento #kidlife #lunch

A post shared by Chaviva Gordon-Bennett (@thechaviva) on Aug 27, 2018 at 6:37am PDT

Black grapes, carrots, @stonyfield yogurt, @kraftrecipes cheese, and a @superpretzel! #Kidlife #parenting #momlife #denver #bento #lunch

A post shared by Chaviva Gordon-Bennett (@thechaviva) on Aug 7, 2018 at 5:37am PDT

Today’s bento? Eggo waffle, @stonyfield yogurt, a homemade egg cup with kale feta and roasted tomatoes, and a delicious local Palisade peach. #momlife #bento #kosher #kidlunch #lunchideas #kidlife #workingmom

A post shared by Chaviva Gordon-Bennett (@thechaviva) on Aug 3, 2018 at 6:00am PDT

Bento style! #kidlife #bentobox #bento #homemade #eggmuffun #oatmuffin #healthyliving #healthyfood

A post shared by Chaviva Gordon-Bennett (@thechaviva) on Aug 2, 2018 at 6:11am PDT

Bento style for the kids. Nomnomnom. #momlife #busymom #kidlife #lunch #bento #healthy

A post shared by Chaviva Gordon-Bennett (@thechaviva) on Jul 31, 2018 at 6:28am PDT

And here are a few I didn't instagram:

Now that you know what I pack for my kids, I have to know ... what kosher toddler lunch ideas do you have for the bento and beyond? Share in the comments!