Space Invasion

I was chatting with a woman the other Friday night and she kept moving back away from me. I am not sure what her thinking was, maybe it was bad breath (either of ours), or her fear that I would reach out and grab her or something. But there we were, talking softly, as to not be overheard, and she kept moving backwards and I, kept inching forward, yet after a time or two I only inched forward a drop, not getting too close to her to as to avoid her moving back again making the cycle repeat. I suppose we could have spoken louder, and kept the distance between us greater, but like I said, it was a quiet conversation.

This incident was so strange it got me thinking about space invasion. I remember one time I went to fight a parking ticket in New York. When I finally got into the judges office, I handed her the ticket and she motioned for me to take a seat. Now the defendant seats were about 10 feet from her desk, so I sat down and began to pull the chair forward to sit across from her at her desk so that we could have a reasonable discussion. Upon seeing this she told me to keep the chairs where they were and "just sit down over-there."

I am not sure if this was an intimidation technique or she just didn't want any of the New York City riffraff too close to her. However, I was about 7 months pregnant, did she really think I would jump her if she declared that I pay the full ticket amount? Well, all in a days work, if I had attacked her it probably wouldn't have been the first time for the judge.

There is this one gentleman that I avoid talking to at all costs. When he is around I literally hide or busy myself as not to be suckered in. He comes right up to you and touches you when he speaks. If you dare move back he comes even closer than before. His eyes are a fake contact colored green and he opens them really wide when he tells a story as if it is the most fascinating thing that his twelve year old son sealed an envelope.

The conversations never end either. After you endure his storytelling and you think it is finally over and you breathe a sigh of relief, he comes right up behind you and taps your shoulder to tell you ONE MORE thing. When you turn around he is right there, and I mean RIGHT THERE so that you almost kiss him!

Socializing is usually fun, I always enjoy a good conversation however not when I have to analyze the other person's body language, so much that I cannot even follow the conversation because I am too busy thinking about dodging their next tap, or inching forward just the right amount, or wondering if I have something stuck between my teeth.

Chaya Mushka

A friend of mine's three year old child passed away. At the thirty day mark, there was a large gathering in the little girl's memory. I was not able to attend, however photos of her were posted on her facebook group. At the first glimpse of her cute little face I was burst into tears. I absolutely cannot understand how such innocence can be swept away by such a terrible disease. How and why does devastation such as this come to this world through the purity of a child?

Just writing this makes me cry. I am filled with millions of questions. First and foremost, how can G-d do this? Does he want us to wake up and appreciate what we have? So let's say I appreciate, does that say others don't appreciate. What is G-d trying to tell us? I don't get it.

The bottom line for me is that my heart is broken. It is broken for her suffering, it is broken for her parents that will NEVER recover from this. It is broken for her sibling that will grow up with a whole in her heart for her best friend was ripped away from her. It is broken for her family that had to endure suffering day in and day out. My heart is broken for all the people that have the question of WHY in their minds and cannot and will not wrap their limited understanding of the world around this.

And as my heart is broken at my thoughts of Chaya Mushka my tears cascade and fall, however I am answer-less.

Crawling Backwards

I was watching my son this afternoon trying to get a toy while playing on the floor. Although he tried, he moved backward instead of forward at every attempt. Not only did he move backward, he moved very very far away from the toy. Of course, it was the cutest thing ever, but as not to torture him any more, after a few moments I put him back near the toys.

In the next few weeks Mendel will be crawling forward. However, his first movements were backward in attempt at crawling. Soon he will have the capabilities and the strength to reach his goals without being propelled in the wrong direction.

As I was watching his attempts, I thought to myself that sometimes you have to move backwards in order to go forwards. Last week I was kind of feeling hopeless, and drained, to the extent of just going through the motions to go through the motions, but this week somehow I have renewed energy and hope. Perhaps last weeks feelings of down were only to help propel me to this week's up.

I say this as a woman and a mother, you can absolutely be driven into insanity by all the stresses of raising a family. However, sometimes just looking at your little baby trying to crawl forward crystallizes things for you and gives you the up that you need.

Eat, play, sleep, play, repeat.

Now that my son is just five months, I was thinking that he may actually get on some sort of schedule, after a week of analyzing his routines I realized he is on a schedule, just not one that I would choose.

His day is like this; eat, play, sleep, play, eat, play, sleep, play, eat, play, sleep. The eating is about ten minutes, the playing about an hour, the sleeping about a half hour to forty five minutes and then the playing another half hour.

You can only imagine how much fun this is for me, the mother. A schedule that repeats itself every two hours and twenty minutes, it is enough to drive me mad. The good thing is that it is very predictable. The bad is, well, having to change activities this often makes me feel like I am running a triathlon. Until the end of the day when I literally collapse into bed and begin the night routine.

The night routine I have yet to surmise, as when I should probably have it figured out by now, I am always sleeping when I could be observing. And with good reason. Besides having little Mendel, I have two daughters.

Although I am having tons of fun with this motherhood business, I do sincerely wish nap time would last just a bit longer.

You're so WHITE

One of the pitfalls of living where I live is the Marshall's store about a minute from my home. Whenever the mood strikes I find myself desperately needing to go there to buy whatever I've been missing that week; a retractable strainer, a throw pillow, a white t-shirt for my daughter, a pair of flats, cuff links for my husband, a tablecloth liner etc. Sometimes I just go there to browse, as sifting through the aisles, even if I don't buy anything, is very therapeutic.

Part of "getting back to myself" after giving birth to my son was making a trip to Marshall's. He was about three months old and I realized he had no pajamas. Needing some urgently I made a trip. Upon coming to the children's section I remember thinking to myself that I would for sure find something as it was the beginning of the fall season and their selection of clothing was plentiful.

After rummaging through the mounds of boy's clothing, I found nothing. How surprising. But at the last second, I grabbed a cute little knitted outfit that would be perfect for synagogue on the High Holidays.

As I wait in line, wondering if there was anything else I could have came for, I am called by the next cashier; a plump, short Indian woman with thinning chin length gray hair and large picture-frame glasses from the 80's. She glances at my baby and asks me "are you Jewish?"

Taken aback I reply, "yes, are you?" She chuckles, obviously she is not Jewish, but hey, it is a humorous thought. She then goes on to tell me that she knew I was Jewish because my baby is so WHITE. Completely astounded by that comment, wondering what she could be getting at and making me wish I had just left without a purchase, she continues her brilliant observation saying that Jews are so WHITE and remain so WHITE because they only marry each other.

My answer to her was precisely this, "mmmhmmm..."

Now that I am reviewing this conversation in my head, I just know that a great reason for Jews to marry each other, and I would share this with anyone that might consider an alternative, is so that their children will remain so WHITE.

What's Your Pain THRUSHold?

The saga begins with burning breasts. And I mean burning in the sense that deep in your breasts you are having deep contractions, similar to the ones you have when you are about 9cm dilated. Serious, serious pain.

I contracted thrush, which is a fungal infection to the nipples and often to your child's mouth probably within the fist few days of my milk "coming in." My nipples looked like minced meat and I was having trouble nursing, my baby was crying and my breasts were hurting. Once I got him eating properly (which is a story in itself in another post) I realized my thrush was so bad that after feeding him, especially in the morning, I would lie in bed for about a half an hour and "recover." It was TERRIBLE.

Here are the tried and true remedies and cures. Rinse your nipples after each feeding with apple cider vinegar mixed with water then follow with a spray of sovereign silver (colloidal silver) and then smear on coconut oil. Swab baking powder mixed with some water in the baby's mouth after each feeding to normalize the PH of the mouth. Also take acidophiles, biotin, and put a bit of acidophiles on the baby's tongue once a day. Remove sugar and yeast from your diet, and for sometime also remove carbs.

The treatments were all wonderful, however, my thrush was so bad it was DEEEP inside the breasts, in the ducts. So deep in fact I wished I had a stick to reach inside and itch and relieve the pain. So I called my midwife who put me on diflucan (floconozle) the dosage that worked in the end was 200mg-400mg to start and 100mg each day there after for 10 days.

On the anti-fungal medication, I literally felt the fungus MOVE OUT OF MY BODY and within two days nursing started to not hurt. I was amazed, wished I had tried this sooner.

Now in retrospect I realize a few things. After giving birth and the stress of trying to get back into the swing of things, having your life just like you want it, and with no sleep, causes your body to react. Mine reacted to the stress of a newborn with a thrush outbreak. After all the medications and remedies, it is clear to me that this was indeed thrush but it was also my reaction to the stress, making it that much harder to clear up.

SO RELAX! Do all the above and try to understand that until your baby is three months old there is NOTHING to talk about when it comes to feeling like your old self again.

A visit to my chiropractor helped as well.

The Hospital

I was actually amazed at the hospital's meals. I was always under the impression that it is a place that helps make people better. As in health-wise better. As in helping people make the best food choices so when they go home they are somewhat wiser, and therefore will become healthier.

However at meal time we were offered, high fructose corn syrup apple juice, corn syrup orange juice, caffeinated coffee. NO vegetables. The fruits were nicely waxed apples and oranges, not quite the freshest you've ever seen either.

I had ordered the Kosher Meals. When given the choices for breakfast, either scrambled eggs with literally freeze dried carrots and peas, or an omelet that looked older than I was, or french toast, with a dark corn syrup dip, that looked as though it would bounce if I threw it on the floor.

I know that the food is outsourced and the hospital can't actually control every aspect of everything, but I really feel that there should be healthier choices. Especially when America is going through a huge weight related, unhealthy eating habit crisis. I wonder if they offer diabetics the same foods they were offering me. I sure hope not.

On another note, the woman that was the "Nutrition counselor" weighed about 350 pounds. She came to tell me the choices of meals and helped me "build my diet" for the few days I was in the hospital. It was quite obvious that she was not at her ideal weight. As she came to my room, first on her route, she was huffing and puffing and sweating as well, from her long walk from the elevator to my room. A large plume of perfume preceded her, smelling of the variety sold at the local CVS. I thought perhaps it as out of the ordinary that this was she, however the next day the counselor that visited came in a close second in the weight department.

I have to say I was very cordial as I feel very deeply for someone struggling with weight, as I have had that challenge as well (on a much smaller scale, I might add), however the absurdity and incongruity of it all made me feel as I if I was having an out of body experience that was both comical and sad.