Lie

Yesterday somebody tweeted this photo of a little Iraqi girl who drew her mum and then lied in her like an embryo. So moving and heartbreaking. I didn't think twice to retweet it.

Then suddenly it stroke me that I was influenced by media. By that very media I hate so much - prejudicial,Western, immoral and mindnumbing.
First, look at the drawing (especially the haircover bow, no way a child could've drawn it so accurately), I don't think girl of this age could have drawn that. It rather looks like a cartoon woman from Marjane Satrapi's books.
Second, this heartbreaking and moving shot is SO very Western, particularly American, that makes me sick. In American, I mean pseudo-emotional images that are pushed on us through Hollywood and media again. Things that have no value and still make us believe they do.

You know how tolerant I am and how I love people, but this photo was too much.
Such a lie.

If someone ever cared for this Iraqi girl (if she really is the one to have drawn her mum) they would never let the war break out - they would never destroy millions of people's lives. They wouldn't get billions from selling the weapon to kill people, to violate their rights and to make them homeless, helpless and orphan. They would never abuse prisoners, never break down the great antiquity of Babilon.
Now please, stop fooling us, especially emotional mums like me, because we can use our brains if/when we need to.

Better one

When I put Ezra to sleep millions of thoughts fly into my mind like colourful butterflies and they are beautiful. Usually my thoughts are beautiful or should be so if I try to think about pleasant things more. Sometimes those thoughts are little melancholic and nostalgic, mostly they are sweet and tender like my baby’s dreams.

I love when he falls asleep and I can see how peaceful he is, how innocent and miraculous. Every baby is a miracle, but I came to realise this only after a year I think. I never thought it would be so true when people used to say that you only feel real love towards your child after she’s one, because the circle of some phase is closed and you can see clearly what all that was about.

Those hard times of first months when I just started to nurse Ezra, the almost 4 months of colicky period, when he had terrible winds and I couldn't help him much, then those times when I tried to train him to sleep… I know more is to come, but this first year is unique, makes my heart melt, because I know this was about building the physical and emotional fundament for Ezra to keep growing up and becoming an excellent person.

Time has flown. I mean that’s how people say, but I don’t quite agree with that. Time has gone by just as I’ve expected – on its time. Time is wise. Rather Hashem is.

Now I just walked by the small sofa and recalled Ezra when he was two months old, he would fall asleep on my chest and then I would put him on that sofa very very slowly so he stayed asleep and I could go to cook dinner. Then I would come back on my tiptoes to check him and tried my best to walk so that our laminate floor wouldn’t make noise. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes – not and he would wake up asking to hold him and comfort him. Then we would nap together on the same sofa – we had often napped there for three hours, which was great and I will always miss it. I am not sure if one gets as much sleep with next babies because first one needs so much attention, doesn’t he?

I’ve also grown a lot during this year. I look back and some days seem like a dream. As if they've never happened, but I only saw a dream and it faded away leaving little purple touch on my soul, if you know what I mean (well, those who know my love to Marquez). There are so many things in life influencing us, hurting us and in the same time motivating us to move on, never stop, never mind stumbling, just go on and on.

I learnt how to be patient, not to lose my temper as easily as I used to; I achieved being nicer to people that annoy me, not to get angry with Ezra when he refuses to sleep or eat, which still is something I keep on working and making myself not to explode, but smile to him and show how calm I am so he eats one more spoonful porridge. Still a challenge.

Life is all about learning anyway. I need to learn new things everyday in order to move on and become better person than I was yesterday -- better wife, better mum, better daughter and just better Sophie. Not always easy, rather hard, but achievable, that's what I'm here for.

Getting and deserving

I wrote a big "heartful" post yesterday and on last minute decided not to publish - it was too personal. Not that I was giving out some intimate secrets or anything. No, it was deeper - coming from the darker side of my soul which has been eating me lately.

You know this dark side comes out, when you feel most weak and tired; exactly then millions of disturbing reasons come to your mind proving that you are miserable and failed in something that was always so important for you.
Profession.
..........................

The problem for my generation and probably for the whole world is the fear of being failure. Fear of not looking cool in others' eyes; fear not having things that others have; fear to be less successful than your university friends (my case); fear to be less beautiful and so on.
That's what makes us depressed - feeling that we don't get what we deserve. Don't we all believe we deserve the best because we are the best personalities of the world?
.............................

Every now and then I get mad. And then I am so ashamed of it. You get angry when you have no control over something and things are not going your way, we all know, and it seems to me that things are not exactly going as I wish they were lately.
People irritate me, environment irritates me, even the smartest and loveliest baby Ezra irritates me and I start to cry. Deep in my heart I know I am happy and lucky for having all I have now and I should be acting more mature, but I can't help it. I pick on everyone and everything and only thing that saves me is going out for a walk and breathing the fresh air. Temporarily.

There are times when I doubt everything in the world and believe that it's all about money, power and fame :| I know it's my post soviet ghost haunting me over and over again, making me feel like a trapped animal and reading "Perfect Day for Bananafish" for thousandth time. Only Salinger can save me, I say.
....................................

This too shall pass, but may come back again.

(This post was re-created/rewritten under the influence of Metallica's "For whom the bell tolls" live in South Korea)

Mit einem Kind... Mami's new world

It's been so long ago since I've blogged, almost a month.

We had lovely Pesach, Ezra had his first birthday and I've had some inner fights with myself and the world. The fight is still going on and I very much doubt it will ever cease.

Now I'd like to tell you about the card I got from my very dear friend Michal for the rosh chodesh of Adar. Michal is a young girl who used to live in Leipzig but now studies at university in a different town. So she visits her family in Leipzig on holidays. I am so glad whenever she comes to Leipzig, always lets me know and offers me help for Shabbat.
We met in Berlin in 2009 first, in the midrasha, and she impressed me with her modesty and colourful tights right away :) she was one of very few people I got along with and was not bored.

She's intelligent, sweet and, very important, - she can listen and never interrupt you. I find this character trait admirable, because most people can't hold their tongues and if they do, they never listen to you, but can't wait you to finish your sentence so they start telling their story. I understand we all care about ourselves and consider things we say more serious than others', but we should try not to. I really do try to be more attentive, to hear what people say and don't push my problems on them. Isn't it enough I talk/write so much and make people read? :)

Last August when Ezra was just four months old and it was lovely weather even in Germany, we went for a walk in the Rosenthaler Park and met Michal there. We talked, walked and had a really nice time, plus Ezra fell asleep and we had loads of time to stroll around the park and have a lovely conversation. That's when I liked her even more.
After that I also decided to delete my Facebook account for good. I realised I saw pictures of others' children more than I spent time with my little baby, who laid on his rug and "talked" to the old brown puppy while his mummy scrolled the Facebook up and down. I realised Facebook was stealing my life and my true self... that's a different story, but the point is Michal sort of helped me to figure this out better.
That was also the day when I told Michal that after having a baby my world had totally changed and it seemed like some new unknown world had opened up for me.
And guess what? Just before Purim Michal gave me this card saying exactly the same I said to her on that very Summer day at the Rosenthaler Park in Leipzig.

 

It means so much to me if I could only explain. I try to talk as little as possible and I usually don't show my feelings to others, but then I felt that I could tell to Michal how different my world had become after having Ezra. 

And she got it. She remembered it.

She found this card somehow and made my Adar definitely. Not only that month but more, as I will keep this card as longer as it's possible. It's also cute that this woman on the card looks kind of like me, wears colourful dress and loves cloth bags just as I do. 

Now, tell me, doesn't everything in this world has its time and space? Didn't G-d give inspiration to some nice person to paint me, a post soviet traumatized girl in her late twenties? 

I love imagining everything is connected in this world and all of us, no matter where we come from, what religion do we practice or how much we weigh, have same soul and emotions - we're never alone. While I suffered from Postpartum stuff and terrible babyblues, cried my heart out for almost six months after giving birth, adjusting with my new self and all, there was also someone somewhere feeling just like me wearing orange dress and her baby on her chest, carried the cloth bags and thought: "Mit einem Kind entdeckt man die Welt aufs Neue -- With the baby, one discovers the world anew".

Thank you, Michal!!!

Scary Schimmel

I am almost sure many of you have seen those American movies about girls moving to Europe or exchanging apartments with, let's say, British people and etc. And behold, disaster - rusty sewerage system, molded walls, squeaky doors - come over as soon as they move in.

This is old lousy Europe.

If finding a flat in the west Germany is almost impossible, over here, in the east, there are plenty of apartments one can rent (after millions of people left for the west in 90's). Comparing to the western prices, the eastern ones are quite reasonable. Did I say reasonable? Nothing is reasonable in life if you really ask me. It's all about us searching for reasons, but never finding them and making up our own.

Anyway, the story is about our apartment. We've been living here since June of 2011. I liked this place at the first sight just because there were 7 memorial stones of 7 people deported to different concentration camps on the doorstep. It meant so much to me and my husband to rent a flat in a house where 7 Jewish people lived, loved, suffered, and then were thrown out from their own homes like they were nothing. 6 of them were executed in Auschwitz and 7th one, Salomon Weininger, if I remember his name correctly, actually fled from the camp back to Leipzig and was hiding for couple of months before he got caught again and was sent to Latvia, where he joined other 6.000 000 Jews in heaven.
So imagine how symbolic it was for us, orthodox Jews, living in this place and keeping the Torah commandments everyday - so uplifting for those perished souls.

Now realistically, the flat was quite cheap, near the synagogue and our community centre, which is important for us to be able to walk there on Shabbat. It was sunny with high ceilings and very comfortable kitchen. So we rented it and moved in after the wedding. Summer was great, Autumn was also lovely, but Winter - that's when the walls in the kitchen and bathroom started to mold. Scary. But we fixed them and lived on. Then we had Ezra in April. Sooner came Summer and we still lived sunny life, so was our second Autumn too.
Ooh, Winter again.
All this mold began to come out since December 2012 and we just can't stop it. We painted the wall, spreyed the liquid to exterminate it, but it would appear in a month's or less time. So unpleasant and not good for health.

When I started cleaning for Pesach the other day, I discovered that in every room behind the heating batteries walls are molded, some less, some more. Then we called the "Hausmeister" who would be the guy in charge about technical things of our house. Now he has to come with some guy who could fix and take off the mold if it's possible. I hope they will not tell us it needs to be seriously repaired and all. It's just before Pesach time and I am beginning to get very nervous, I definitely don't want people coming over and do capital repairs.

Wish us luck in finding new flat - CLEAN and in a good condition not like this old moldy one. Because even the 7 memorial stones and all the romantic stories I imagine can't make us live here anymore.

Rosh Chodesh - NISSAN

Rosh Chodesh NISSAN, here you are!

This Rosh Chodesh is very special and touching for me, even though Jewish calendar of this year is little too quick. Meaning, last year when my baby Ezra was born on 12th of Nissan it was right the beginning of April 2012, while this year his Jewish birthday is going to be little earlier than the secular one, in the end of March. Nissan is the month of Ezra's birthday, month of Jewish nation's spiritual and physical freedom from slavery. I use to say that sometimes we are still slaves of various material things. It may sound banal, but yes, we are all slaves of our own egos and then you know it - all these luxury stuff. Not that material well-being is bad, but getting obsessed with so much vanity, definitely is.

Still off the track as usual.

Rosh Chodesh literally means the head of the month. As we define it - appearing of the new moon which is a sign of a new month. Since monthly periods and anything bound to time are very much connected to women, we call Rosh Chodesh - time of women. Many women come together, go out, or have night ins, give lessons, talk, drink coffee/tea and share SO many things we, women, can always have in store.
Traditionally (or maybe not) women shouldn't do much on this day (sometimes rosh chodesh lasts two days) - dress beautifully and have some time to meditate, and be happy. Before I was married I never appreciated this time as much as I do now, probably because I have very little time for myself and let alone, for meditating. So whenever it's Rosh Chodesh, I try to make it a bit more special as other days: I put make up, wear some accessories, get dressed better than usual and most importantly, I listen to music or write and you know, I am happy (well, happier when my husband has time to go out for some ice-cream. IDEAL.).

Rosh Chodesh Nissan is different though. Pessach is in two weeks, which means forget meditation and get back to your cleaning and dusting. I was taking very easy this prePesach cleaning before one day when I was changing Ezra I found crumbles in his sleeve. Then I freaked out - 'I HAVE TO START CLEANING NOW!!!'
All right, now I am calmer and know that I shall manage with Hashem's help (also my mother-in-law's). Now, let me enjoy Roch Chodesh and exterminate all the cakes and cookies that are left.

Chodesh Tov!!!

Ocean's? No, Ezra's 11

It's been a little hard week. I get very little sleep. Ezra turned 11 months on Monday and he is going through some weird milestone.

On Monday we went to Nova Eventis, trade centre in Leipzig, to buy a new car seat for Ezra. We couldn't pick up anything for a long time. There are so many car seats, different brand names, some famous, some - not, some with crazy prices, some - reasonable. Finally we bought something and when got back home, realised we didn't quite approve it so now we have to return it and get a new one.
Even though Ezra and I mostly use public transport, as I've already mentioned many times, he still needs a car seat because sometimes we get to ride somewhat little far and he is absolutely grown out from the old Babyschale. Plus, he doesn't like to be half sitting, he's a big boy, I understand him.

Well, since that Monday or rather Sunday night, he's been sleeping terribly. It's either his teeth which are coming all at the same time or it's just some developmental- or so called separation anxiety thing that make him fuss. He wakes up several times at night crying and about 1am he just refuses to stay in his bed but be taken in mine. I tried not to take him but he cried so hard I couldn't stand letting him cry so much especially at night when we all need to get some sleep. Once he's with me, he falls asleep immediately, but wakes up at dawn asking to nurse and would nurse forever if I let him. I thought he was weaning but he's fallen in love with nursing back again, I guess. Of course I still love it too, but it's exhausting especially at night.

I know he'll grow out of it and I'll miss this time like I miss when he was a tiny baby sleeping on my chest. But before he will I get tired and tired mum tends to complain and feel like her eyes are falling out and backache is unbearable.
Still, being mum is something that really makes me stronger. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, right? Ha ha!