This morning my dad dropped Craig and Justin off after shul, so the four of us had a mini musroom melt sandwiches for breakfast with a big jug of cocoa. Then Craig helped me load the dishwasher while his brothers put the leftovers away and then they all attacked the couch and put Mozart’s Don Givanni in the DVD and just read and watched the opera till my dad came to pick Matt up and take him in for today’s treatment.

Meanwhile I just got pretty distracted by Craig and Justin having a fight that escalated to some hair pulling and scratching, so both boys are in time out for now. A friend of mine remarked that a) she would feel sorry for the kids while they are being disciplined and b) some of these little fights are better to left unpunished as kids can determine the pack hierarchy through experiencing each other’s strength.

I couldn’t resist, but offer the blessing–or is it a course–that may her kid be surrounded by children of parents thinking similarly and supervised by teachers also thinking the same way. The reason? If you are right, then you’ll be happy, if you are wrong, you’ll learn it in time.

I am not legalizing fighting and agression between my kids by letting them sort it out for themselves. They can experience the limits of their strength and their brothers’ when wrestling, pillow fighting or something along those lines. And disciplining each other is not the responsibility of my kids, but mine, as their parent.

Now as I have typed this up, it’s time for lunch and time out for the boys is up.

Many people ask me when they first see my blog why I chose this header image, especially those who I told that the photo wasn’t taken by me.

The photo is of the cobble stones of a street in Kazimierz, the historic Jewish quarters of Krakow, Poland. Now some of you may remember that one of my paternal great-grandmothers was from Krakow. She probably walked these streets, she very easily could have actually walked on the very stones in the photo.

Grandma once told me how much her mother loved summer rain, and she would totally run around on the street in Óbuda with her kids after the rain, jumping over (and if barefoot, into) puddles. So this picture reminds me of the great-grandmother I never got to meet, but I feel very close to.

2009 is starting really well! As of tomorrow Matthew will be treated as outpatient, and Efi is being released to outpatient care as well. They are both very excited about it, and so am I!

Yesterday my brother Simeon and his wife Alissa (yes, the one with whom they separated earlier this year), hosted the annual Novi God celebration at their home. Most of my other siblings showed up with their kids, so there were 26 kids and 14 adults, with a special visit from Ded Moroz himself. Ded Moroz sounded an awfully lot like Anton Avramovich, Alissa’s father! I was super surprised to hear my two youngest ones converse with him in some basic Russian. Of course, this is what happens when your kids are babysat by their Russian aunt a lot! I am actually very happy about it, and it confirms my suspicion that my kids got their affinity for languages from me, rather than from their mother. Now only if I could get them to learn another Western language! Though if Efi gets his way, my kids will be fluent in Arabic by the time they are teenagers.

In addition to the insane amount of individually wrapped Russian candy that my kids consumed–they wer edisplayed all around the place in nice baskets, and I’m talking about at least 25 lbs of candy here–we stuffed ourselves on pirozhki and some festive Russian cakes.  Some of the adults shared some vodka (Kalinka, Szlava ajánlásával… Na nem, annál jobb volt!) and we had good Russian tea from a real samovar.

My kiddos had a lot of fun, they all got all kinds of presents, including a bunch of books that they inherited from their older cousins. Matthew is just starting to read Hebrew, and he prefers books he has already read in English or Hungarian, so his cousins’ now out of print books really help.

Matthew and I are now in hospital. He has osteomyelitis in his left leg, so now we are locked up for a week or two or three. Between this, Justin’s 4 stitches on his head, I’d say this Chanukah went exactly the way as they tend to go in this family. This year, however, we didn’t set any curtains on fire.

So now Matthew and Mr Woof (aka Va úr in Hungarian), are watching The Jungle Book 2 while awaiting food delivery. Because my smart little son decided to convince his mother that his father (that is me) was dying of hunger and craving McChicken sandwiches like nothing else. Now I have to admit I really don’t care form McChicken sandwiches, but I do know someone, who really likes them. Yes, Matthew.

Also, who has now a cute pointed baby leppit? Yes, Matthew. And he named his leppit Colbert.

An Exchange With a Missionary

Arutz Sheva/March 28, 2005
By Rabbi Aron Moss

Note: It is generally not advisable to engage in conversation with missionaries. Sometimes, it may be unavoidable…

“Jews for Jesus” Missionary: Rabbi, do you know that you will only be saved when you accept Jesus as the Messiah?

Rabbi Moss: Really? Do you really believe that I am doomed if I don’t accept Jesus?

J4J: Of course. He died for our sins. If you don’t accept him, your sins remain yours. And we all sin, don’t we?

RM: Sure. So, let’s say I never accept Jesus, what will happen to me?

J4J: You will be punished for your sins.

RM: You mean I’ll go to Hell?

J4J: Well, yeah.

RM: But I assume you’ll go to Heaven, because you have accepted Jesus, right?

J4J: Very good rabbi! And I’m still Jewish, too. My grandparents died in the Holocaust.

RM: Your grandparents were Jewish?

J4J: Yes.

RM: And they were killed by the Nazis?

J4J: Yes.

RM: You know, many of the Nazis were believing Christians.

J4J: Yeah, but not all Christians are…

RM: Of course, most Christians despise Nazism. But let me ask you: According to your beliefs, the Jewish victims of the Nazis - your grandparents, one million children, and millions of others - where are their souls now?

J4J: Well… they’re…

RM: You can tell me, this is an open discussion.

J4J: They’re in Hell.

RM: And the Nazis who murdered them, those who did believe in Jesus, where would they be now?

J4J: Well, they’re in Heaven. Jesus would have forgiven them. Jesus is about love, not…

RM: Love?! Correct me if I’m wrong, but you represent an organisation that believes that vicious murderers are rewarded in Heaven and their innocent victims are punished in Hell. In your worldview, no matter how cruel and barbaric someone is in their lifetime, they’ll be fine in the afterlife, as long as they say they accept Jesus. And you want to present this as a valid and respectable ideology, suitable for Jews to believe!? I think the morality is a bit twisted there.

J4J: I’ll pray for you, rabbi. One day you’ll see the truth. And you’ll join us.

RM: I hope not. Hell doesn’t sound so bad after all, if I’ll be with your grandparents and all the other holy Jewish martyrs. And I’m not so sure I’d want to be in Heaven with guys who think like you!

Stop sending me emails calling me to action to aid those poor souls in Gaza.

When they stop hisdin, feeding, and supplying terrorists we can talk about it. Till then? Gaza belongs to the children of Israel.

Yesterday I went to see Bond, James Bond.

My (not-so-spoilery) review:

Daniel Craig looks great in a tux. Any tux looks great on Daniel Craig.

The villain looks better than Bond.

I want an Aston Martin.

I love Judi Dench.

Popcorn with extra fake butter was awesome.

Proposition 8, eliminating same sex couples’ rights to get married, passed with 52% yes.

Mormons spent $20 000 000 on the campaign.

This is the first time I’ve ever said it publicly, but probably not the last:

I’ve never despised, hated, loathed anything more than the fucking Mormon church and the holier-than-thou fucked up Mormons. Not even the Catholics.

… a wacky Christian who is all to conservative for my taste is getting elected to become president of the United States of America.

His name is either Barack Obama or John McCain.

Darn, the messiah should come today. Like really.