Questions for the Left, advice for the Right

Given the circumstances, I can't help talking politics a bit now.

When I think about politics right now, I mostly think about how sick I am of slogans. "Crush Hamas" - how? What do you mean "crush"? I don't think killing them all is going to happen. "Stop fighting, start talking" - to who?? Hamas? What kind of compromise can there possibly be there?

Anyway. I've been left with some questions for the Israeli political left, and some advice for the political right.

 

I'll start with the questions. Here is probably a terrible place to ask those questions (I'm pretty sure that after the several lulls in posting I've had in the past few months, the only people still reading are my mom and sister (hi guys!)). But I'll write them down here, to get it out of my head.

- The big question - what's the alternative the left is suggesting right now? A ceasefire without destroying the rest of the tunnels? A military operation that's run differently (eg, no airstrikes, or house-to-house fighting instead of bringing in the bulldozers, or vice versa)? 

Right now it feels like all the focus is on how sad and terrible it is that innocent people are dying. Which, yeah, it is, but - not to sound like a horrible person here - what's your point? I think it's clear to everyone that we're in a situation where innocent people are going to die no matter what course of action we choose. (go in to destroy tunnels = war with Hamas = people dying, don't go in = tunnels used for attacks = people dying...)

I guess that's not just a question for the Israeli left, but for the world in general. So many politicians, so many words about how sad and terrible the loss of life is - so few concrete proposals as to how things could be different. (And no, buzzwords like "compromise" and "peace talks" and "ending the cycle of violence" do not count.)

- Do you take Hamas at their word re: wanting Israel destroyed? Or is there a sense that if Israel ends the "siege" and takes similar steps, Hamas would become more moderate (or alternatively, would be replaced by different leadership)?

- Why does the political left tend to treat Netanyahu as if he's anti-peace and doesn't really want to negotiate? What's the big difference between what Rabin offered and what he's offered?

*******

And advice for the right: we can't afford to let "racist" be a word that only the political left uses. 

I think the political right got so used to hearing "racist" as an automatic dismissal of its own ideas that at some point it basically just dropped the word from its lexicon. Not good.

I don't think there's nearly as much racism on the political right as one might think from reading talkbacks and similar media (facebook feeds, etc). But there's enough that we need to take it seriously, and soon.

*******

My two cents? Yeah, you didn't ask for it, but you're going to get it anyway...

I think the main factor in this conflict, still, is the refusal to recognize Israel. Hamas keeps using tactics that have historically worked on foreign occupiers, not realizing that its own perception of Israel as a foreign occupier doesn't make it so. 

Terrorism might drive out some colonialist soldier who just wants to get back home to Britain/France/wherever. But try that against someone in the only home they've ever known, and you're going to get a very different reaction. 

******

OK, that's more than enough of that. I hope to return soon to our usually scheduled programming of random crap my kids said/ tales of terrible housekeeping/ poop jokes.

Suspense

(No, this isn't about the fighting)

(conversation translated by me)

Me: Adi and N, if you girls can sweep the floor for me, I'll be able to shower now and we can leave sooner.

Adi: But I'm at the most suspenseful part of my story! I'll do it, but don't ask for any more help after this, because I'm at the suspense! (אני במתח)

Me: Honey, you don't have to do it. I'm just suggesting it, if you want to leave more quickly.

Adi: Oh, OK. So then I'll keep reading the suspense.

D: Mommy, I want to read the suspense too!

Me: OK.

D: .... What does 'read the suspense' mean?

Tablecloth

Viggy and I discuss whether or not we need a new tablecloth:

Him: We need to replace this tablecloth.

Me: Why do you say that? Because of the nail polish stains?

Him: No, I meant because of this brown stuff here.

Me: I think that's just the table. See, it's ripped a little in some places, so the brown shows through.

Him: No, this brown stain.

Me (pointing): This brown stain?

Him: No, on the other side.

Me: Oh, that stain. Yeah, that does look pretty bad.


This is what you get when neither spouse is particularly aesthetically gifted (no offense, Viggy).

By the way, I highly recommend plastic tablecloths if you have young kids. Not tablecloth covers, just big sheets of plastic-y stuff that go over the table and stay there. That way there's no need to mess around with placemats or with constant tablecloth-washing. Just grab a sponge and give it a quick wipe. Or, if it's been more than 5 minutes between mealtime and cleaning time, just grab a chisel and scrape it down (cornflakes and milk, as it turns out, create a mixture that's probably strong enough to build houses from).

Adi's cat

Adi has a cat.

It is not an indoors cat. Those of you who know Viggy personally may have guessed that already. Ditto for those of you who've seen my house, and who realize that I need a small needy animal shedding on the furniture like I need a hole in the head.

(which has always struck me as a bizarre expression, because in fact I do need holes in my head, otherwise I would die. It should really be "like I need a new hole in the head. That is not a piercing. Or a third nostril that somehow allows me to breathe underwater.")

Anyway. "Adi's" cat is one of the three cats that hangs out outside our building. There are three of them, named (by her) Tal, Purr, and Mitsy.

Adi's favorite by far is Mitsy, or as everyone else knows her, "that one with the freaky eye."

Mitsy is white, with patches of gray that may or may not just be dirt, a freaky eye (naturally), and an ever-changing array of nasty scratches that may explain why she's somehow still skinny, despite the fact that several different people all feed our building's cats and the other ones are pleasantly round.

Mitsy is also actually a boy cat, but we are not allow to mention that. The fact of "her" male-ness was discovered fairly early on in the game, but not so early that A and N weren't already very attached to the idea of Mitsy as a girl. And anyway, you can't call a boy cat "Mitsy" (apparently), and obviously it would take some time to come up with an equally creative boy name - so for conversational purposes, Mitsy is female.

A couple of days ago N mentioned that Mitsy might have babies soon, and I didn't manage to refrain from reminding her, "Honey, you know Mitsy is really a boy, right?"

Adi was very offended. "Mommy. You're not supposed to say that!"

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I just meant that Mitsy might not be able to have kittens for... biological reasons."

Adi considered for a moment, then nodded. "OK."

It's not so bad having a cat with this sort of set-up. The kids can play with it and feed it scraps, but it's not my responsibility and it doesn't come in the house. And it seems good for Mitsy, too. She looks like she needs some positive attention.

Unfortunately, Mitsy seems to have been a gateway pet, as Adi is already asking for a pet she can keep in the house as a present for her next birthday. She wants a mouse, a bird, or a gerbil - any of those things is fine, as long as it's female.

Viggy is trying to talk her into a fish. Even that has its potential downsides - most notably, Adi's inevitable heartbreak when the fish dies of neglect/overfeeding/being invited by the younger children to join them in the bathtub. (On the other hand, one could argue that one of the main purposes pets serve is to teach children about the inevitable reality of death... )

Anyway. Now I must return to life and its many demands (laundry to fold, homework to do, popcorn to eat...). In the meantime, if anyone has a particularly durable type of pet to recommend, feel free to leave a comment.

Rocket fun times

We haven't been getting as much rocket-related excitement as our friends from elsewhere in the country, but a couple of rockets have hit uncomfortably close to where we live.

So today I waited until the kids changed out of their "bathtub rainstorm" clothes and cleaned some of the buckets of water off of the floor, then sat them down for a rocket safety talk. I talked about how we might hear a siren, and where we should go if we're outside (into a building) or in our house (into mommy and daddy's room). But don't worry too much, because there probably won't be rockets here, it's just important to know how to be safe.

A couple of minutes later I came across Adi leading the girls and a couple of their friends in saying tehillim (psalms). Adi was quick to tell me that they were definitely NOT scared, but were only praying for other people who might have rockets fired at them.

A few minutes after that, D didn't want to put on her shoes. D never wants to put on her shoes, so I didn't think much of it. But then she curled up in Viggy's bed looking sad. I asked her what was wrong.

"Mommy, I don't want to go outside until after the rocket falls down," she explained.

Then to make her feel better I told her that the people firing the rockets are stupid and have terrible aim, and that some of their rockets even fall down and hit them by accident. That cheered all the kids up a little too much. Adi and her friend spent the next few minutes entertaining the younger kids by playing the part of "terrorist who blows self up."

Ahh, childhood.

Then we all went out to the park (a safe enough place, considering that 1. we're far enough from Gaza that we get over a full minute warning in case of attack, 2. our park is small enough that nowhere is more than 50 seconds or so from shelter - even at a child's pace).

On the way back, D was thinking more about rocket safety. "If we were in M's house, the best place to be would be under the table," she said.

"Why is that?"

"Because you are not allowed to move the chairs."

Party time

It's the end of the school year. Which means one thing (one thing other than soul-crushingly hard final exams, that is): end-of-the-year parties in preschool.

Last week we had parties for N, D and A very nearly back-to-back.

For those of you not familiar with the Israeli preschool system, a party in preschool isn't just a bunch of bored parents sitting around while their hyper offspring eat cake and run around. The hyper offspring are expected to put on a production that usually involves upward of one hour of singing and dancing.

This is apparently the Song Lady's sole opportunity to show the parents that she has been providing valuable enrichment activities for their children, and thereby to justify her salary. Personally, I think she could probably earn more by doing nothing with the kids all year, then passing a hat around at the beginning of each preschool party and warning that the production length will be inversely proportionate to the amount of cash collected.

But that's just me. A lot of parents seem very enthusiastic about these things, actually.

For whatever reason, at D's end of the year party they started by giving the kids red sashes to wear as ties. This was a bizarre choice.

I have to admit, performances by 3 and 4-year-olds are actually pretty fun. The kids are old enough to have a general sense of what's going on, but young enough that things are going hilariously wrong on a near-constant basis.

(D was actually more or less on track during her whole party. She did get a little extra excited at the beginning and start jumping around in the middle of the room while the preschool teacher was still giving her welcome speech. But from that point on she was remarkably focused. She was using her tambourine as a tambourine while the child next to her busily licked his, and she wasn't one of the kids who caused the "hold hands and walk in a circle" bit to devolve into chaos.)

And on the bright side, these events provide hours of free entertainment for younger siblings down the line. S can spend hours watching old footage of D's hannukah party from last year.

Still, I wish that if preschool teachers didn't have the sense to cut these parties way, way shorter, they would at least provide a little in the way of entertainment for those of us not endlessly fascinated by watching small children forget the words to songs.

I can dream.

all of the smarts

I am currently trying to understand Green's theorem (on the relationship between the line integral over a curve and the double integral of the space bounded by the curve) with a wet shirt on. Wet because I tipped the cup before bringing it to my mouth.

However much luck you all wish me with this math course, it will not be enough.

In other news, I have a most excellent excuse for not being in touch recently - having a baby. The baby is squishy and fast-growing and likes to sleep, making him an all-around excellent baby. Other baby facts: he was born very hairy, but now has a bald strip running around his head from where his head rests on the mattress, and he hates showers, a fact he expresses through shrieks that stop just short of reaching dog-whistle range.

I hope to add more later; for now, back to Green.