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When I returned to work after the birth of my first son, I found myself in a unique pumping situation. As the rabbi of a Jewish day school, I was fortunate enough to have my own office. Since I am…involved in so many aspects of leading the school and infusing it with ruach (energy), there are often many teachers, parents, and students coming in and out of my office. Rather than simply shutting my door in order to pump, I wanted to find the right words for a door sign that indicated I was doing… >> Read More
I think the iPhone should come with an instruction manual that’s required reading. It isn’t enough to know how to connect to Wifi or how to Facetime five people at once — it’s equally…important to understand how to communicate with other humans in a decent, which isn’t intuitive to new users (i.e., tweens). If you’re going to cave and give your kids phones before they’re mature enough to use them — like, um, I did — then it’s important that somebody teach them the rules. (For what… >> Read More
Back in the day, when I was pumping what felt like gallons of breast milk for my infant son, I used to be thin — really thin. In fact, the super-fit New York City parents at my older daughter’s…preschool would beg me to reveal the secret formula to my svelte figure. "Don’t be so impressed," I told a fellow mom who had the silhouette of Flat Stanley. "I have an appointment to get blood work done to make sure I don’t have some terrible health problem.” Fortunately, my weight loss had more to… >> Read More
“I have to tell you something.”
Oy. This was the second time in four days that my husband came to me with some kind of emergency. The first time, he told me that he found our remaining…gerbil, Buzzy, dead in the tank. As we have had a lot of pet deaths recently, we have become experts at grieving, and grieving quickly. So, that day, I left work early, picked up my 12 year old, and trekked to the pet store to get two new male gerbils. It was important to get… >> Read More
I met up with an old friend today to go to our rabbi’s funeral. We popped into a nearby coffee shop and slid into a booth in our matching black dresses — hers with a blazer, mine with a sweater…and pearls. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year. She’d had a baby; her third child. I’d gotten remarried. My older kids had started middle school. My little ones were almost too heavy to lift. But the eternity since our last catch-up didn’t matter — we picked up our conversation as if we’d… >> Read More