A New Order
Did you ever hear any of the following in your house?
“It’s not my job, it’s his.”
“I cleaned the table last night.”
“I don’t have time to make my bed. I have to study for a test.”
Well, we certainly have, too many times, and after fourteen years of parenting it was getting a bit old. The same fights and arguments day after night after day.
It’s not that our kids were shirking their responsibilities per se. It’s just that we didn’t have an effective system to track, enforce and reward the desired behaviors. For any task, a parent would generally ask one of the kids on the spot.
In addition to opening the door to dissension, this approach created a general atmosphere of stress. Who’s going to get “picked” tonight, the kids would wonder (and so would their parents)? During dinner I could almost hear those brain cells calculating the latest cunning or creative excuse why someone else should wipe down the counters.
. . . . It was time to chart a new course in our household. And that’s what we did…literally, starting with “The Chart.”
Creating a “job chart” may be old hat for many parents. But for us, it was out-of-the-box thinking.
Jody and I started by writing down all of the things that need to get done in the house to keep it running smoothly. This activity can be quite shocking when you realize how much stuff we do every single day and every week. We counted 29 individual activities, not including repeating tasks like setting and clearing the table.
Next we plotted the tasks into three charts arranged by days of the week:
Daily Personal – these are the tasks that each child needs to do on his own – things like Make Bed, Pick up Clothes, Brush Teeth. Next to each task was a checkbox. Because everyone loves checking off an item from their To Do List, right?
Daily Rotation – these are tasks that the house needs and that can be “signed up” for by children and parents alike for different days in the week – Unload Dishwasher and Take Out Trash, for instance.
Weekly Rotation – finally, there were some tasks that only need to happen once a week, like Bake for Shabbat and Take Newspapers to Recycling Bin
The next step was to write out exactly what each job entails. It’s not fair to assume that the kids already know exactly how to do everything they’re being asked without some sort of training.
This was actually a tip I picked up from Michael Gerber’s popular “E-Myth” series of books and seminars. He says that one of the reasons many new businesses fail is that the entrepreneur who started the company – whether it’s a hi-tech software developer or a small family-run bakery – doesn’t create a “manual” for every job that the organization requires. Without this kind of formal documentation, if a key person leaves, everyone else sputters and lurches into crisis. No one, Gerber maintains, can be allowed to be irreplaceable.
All the more so for a family, I figured.
. . . . When we had finished all our preparatory work, we printed out the job descriptions and charts and called a family meeting.
The kids are always a little suspicious about surprise family meetings (it’s like a pop quiz – nothing good can ever come out of it), so I set out immediately to reassure them. “We want to share with you a new system that will reduce stress in our house,” I began.
After a brief introduction, we whipped out the papers. Our youngest, Aviv, immediately took to the charts. He was ready to start checking things off before he’d even read them, bless his good natured little eight-year-old heart.
Twelve-year-old Merav proceeded to peruse each job description as if she were studying for a test. She also appeared to welcome the new structure.
Only fourteen-year-old Amir was savvy (or is that cynical) enough to realize what was coming next.
“And what happens if we don’t do our jobs?” he asked.
Jody and I had discussed this already. “There will be rewards and consequences.”
“I knew it!” Amir said and buried his head in his hands.
“If you don’t get your jobs done,” Jody continued, “you won’t be able to use your computer or GameBoy or watch TV the rest of that day. Nothing with a screen in it.”
“That’s not fair!” Amir blurted out, brimming with hormones and indignation.
“What’s so important that you have to be on your computer every day?” I asked. But it was Merav who responded.
“I have to check my email,” she said.
“But you’ve only had an email account for, what, less than two months,” I countered.
Aviv was still studying the chart. “How can we put away backpacks in the morning?” he asked, referring to a task on his Daily Personal chart. I explained that this was a task for when he gets home. He nodded approvingly and proceeded to check off the task.
There was some more back and forth, and not an insignificant amount of discussion about what the reward should be (a night out at the movies, dinner with pizza and ice cream?) Everyone signed up for daily and weekly jobs (whether begrudgingly or with gusto). The night ended without any fisticuffs, though not entirely on the optimistic note in which it had begun.
It’s too early to tell how this is going to work out over the long term. Research shows it takes about a month of consistently doing something to bring about a real change in behavior. But the initial results look promising.
The next morning, all three kids’ beds had been made and the breakfast bowls had been rinsed and put in the dishwasher. There was no argument that night over whose job it was to wipe down the counters. The day after the same. By day three we had to give a punishment to one child for leaving clothes lining around on the floor, but I did it with as much compassion as I could muster and received no lip in return.
Clearly we are heading into highly uncharted territory!
The Blum Family
Don’t hold back, Liza
Tell us how you really feel.
“Technical writer, blogger, freelancer and mommy,” Liza, vents about the war, Israel’s leaders, anti-Semitism, the European left wing, and the Israeli right wing. There is too much there to exerpt. See it for yourself.
At a loss for a title for this one
A call for peace, from SnoopyTheGoon to the people of Lebanon (except Hezballah, of course):
Let’s do without Syria, Iran, US, UN and U name it. Let’s just do this.
What do you think?
posted to YouTube by x112mail.
Um, the Japanese need to lighten up?
Well, that’s MY conclusion from this post by Sharvul. But perhaps I’m biased. :-)
Flying from Tel Aviv through Frankfurt to Tokyo this week, I was on two Lufthansa flights on the same day. So same environment: same airline, same crew (not the actual people of course) and same service.
The main difference between the two flights was that most of the passengers on the Tel Aviv-Frankfurt flights were Israelis while most of the passengers on the Frankfurt-Tokyo flight were Japanese. The other difference was the duration of the flight: 3.5 hours for the first flight vs. 10.5 hours for the second.
For the sake of brevity, let’s call them the “Israeli flight” and the “Japanese flight” accordingly. Here below are some observations about my experiences on these two flights. Keep the above differences in mind and draw your own conclusions:
* On the Israeli flight, 10 minutes after the “boarding completed” announcement (i.e. all passengers on board) was made, people were still fumbling with their bags and standing in the aisles. On the Japanese flight, everybody was seated.
* Throughout the Israeli flight, except for take-off and landing (first and last 20 minutes of the flight), most of the aisles and the area near the galleys were blocked by people standing and talking to each other. On the Japanese flight, the aisles were free throughout the flight except for the occasional person hurrying to/from the bathroom.
* The one time I needed the bathroom on the Israeli flight I had to wait in line for 5 minutes. The three times I needed the bathroom on the Japanese flight I never waited.
* The bathroom I frequented on the Israeli flight had paper towels on the floor and the toilet was not flushed by the previous user(s). The bathrooms I used on the Japanese flight were spotless (there might have been some water drops near the basin, I’m not sure).
* I sat near the galley (exit row on both flights). Throughout the Israeli flight I kept hearing the “ping” sounds that warn the flight attendants that someone pushed the call button. I never heard one “ping” on the Japanese flight.
* As the plane was approaching the gate, and upon hearing the pursar utter the words “flight attendants, all doors in park”, almost all passengers on the Israeli flight jumped from their seats and dove for the overhead compartments to fetch their bags. Needless to say, the “fasten seat belts” sign was still on. On the Japanese flight nobody moved before the “fasten seat belts” sign was off.As I said, draw your own conclusions…
“Remember to buy her pens and scissors, and let me know if you know anyone who was killed”
From Stefanella:
One thing I need to ask you: Has anyone in your family or among your friends been hurt, killed, directly affected or sent to serve in Lebanon during the recent outbreak? I have to ask because sometimes one child will start talking about something and the floodgates open for the others–Israeli teacher running through checklist of questions during Parent-Teacher conference prior to 1st day of kindergarden
With friends like these, how could he be nervous?
Michael was a student at a New Orleans university, who came to Israel for a semester after Hurricane Katrina closed his school. What could be better? Hang out in Israel with his friends for a few months, earn some academic credit, and have a dry place to sleep? Well, looks like he’s gotten more than he bargained for, now that he decided to stay in Israel for good . . . and the Jewish tendency to laugh at (not with) one’s pain is not helping matters . . .
Through either serendipity or inertia (history will decide), a semester at the Hebrew University before a triumphant return to the ruins of New Orleans ever so slowly transformed into full-on immigration to Israel. Some will say it was the hummus what did it. Others will say full-on immigration was my plan all along. I don’t really remember at this point. It’s been a very long, yet very short year – when I consider all that’s happened to me, it seems like it’s too much to squeeze within the bookends of a year, but in another sense, time seems to be racing ever faster towards an inevitable destination, no longer beyond the horizon but increasingly in plain sight.
I’m sorry, I’ll stop abusing metaphor and get the point: I’m getting drafted in a couple of months.
This is something of a surprising development when considered objectively. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Well, I’m not really a lover. I’m neither mod nor rocker, I’m a mocker. And yet, here I am, on the brink of signing away a good chunk of my life to the military of the country I’ve rather recently adopted.
I could make an attempt to explain my motivations and feelings toward service in the IDF, but honestly, I’ve never been very good at sincerity (it always strikes me as insincere), and I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, so take five seconds and look at that charming “Hagen Al Moledetkha” poster in Laya’s recent post and I’m sure we’ll all be on the same page. And being one of those old-fashioned “Whoo-hoo, let’s make the desert bloom!” Zionists, Blue Train to Post-Zionism’s Ascensions, let’s say, I’m taking “Kravi zeh hakhi, achi,” to heart and shooting for combat infantry, or as my ever-encouraging mother calls it, “cannon fodder”.
I admit to a moderate amount of nervousness, which tends to be exacerbated rather than alleviated by everyone around me. My mother, beset by conflicting impulses to guilt me into changing my mind about the army in general, convince me to shoot for a non-combat role, or accept what I’ve decided, has become somewhat incoherent. (And before I get the indignant phonecall, she still is my favorite mother). My American friends are at best puzzled, given that my interests in high school were chiefly playing the drums and completing my collection of Prince albums on vinyl (this is not to say that these are no longer my interests, mind you). My Israeli army veteran friends mostly like to tell me somewhat alarming anecdotes that are apparently, in retrospect, the Most Fun Things Ever, such as, “The best part is when, during your tironut, for gas mask training, they make you go into a tent filled with tear gas, and then they make you take off your gas mask and make you work out until you’re crying and snot is pouring out of your nose and every cell in your body is crying out for the sweet release of death! It’s fuckin’ awesome!” Not that I’ll name names or anything.
But by far the most generally discouraging of my friends and supporters are my very own Jewlicious co-bloggers. ck and laya, with minimal input, will gladly launch on a half-hour spiel about how my death in combat would be the best possible thing that could ever happen to Jewlicious: “Just think of the traffic! The publicity! It would be blogging gold! We could make a post about your funeral and write you an awesome eulogy! The first blogger killed in action! Ooh, even better! You could marry (female friend of mine) first, and then you could leave behind a grieving widow! Or, EVEN BETTER, you could knock her up first! That’s even more tragic! And then we could establish charities in your name! The Michael Foundation – bringing together Israeli and Palestinian children and teaching them to play the drums. It’s gold!”
I love my friends so much.
On Vacation, with Children
Gavriel reports from the Galilee:
We’re still on vacation. While it’s totally obvious this vacation is recharging the parental batteries (how could it not?) I thought I’d give a quick list of some of the many vacation benefits our kids are also getting out of this trip to Israel’s north:
1. Chocolate cereal for breakfast and barbecued marshmallows for dinner.
2. Local dogs that know how to suck up to little kids, hoping to merit dibs on any leftover barbecued chicken. I also notice the kids seem to have a heartier appetite, cleaning their plates more than usual even though I can’t specifically remember seeing them actually eat much of
anything. Aside: thank goodness these dogs showed up after we almost ruined the vacation by saying no when asked if it was possible to rent a dog for the trip.
3. Cable TV with the same selection of channels the kids are used to, so they can have a little time each day that feels like home only farther away.
4. A beach that has ROCKS. A lawn outside the cottage that has STICKS.
5. New bunk assignments, seating arrangements, and bathroom protocols to negotiate — using “negotiate” here in it’s euphemistic, Hamas-ian sense.
6. Microwave popcorn (it’s good anywhere) and healthful granola cookies (Ok, they didn’t actually fall for that but I give Sharon credit for trying).
7. Air conditioner controls that are low enough for all three girls to reach, all the time.
8. Lights with dimmer switches that really dim, even the 17th time.
9. A whole new vista of questions to explore:
- why is the cottage made of wood?
- why are the worker guys not married?
- are we there yet?
- how much longer until we eat?
- where did you put my shoes?
- since it’s vacation, do we have to brush our teeth?
- can we watch TV before we brush our teeth?
At least it must seem like a whole new vista to them.
10. The thrill of swimming in Lake Kinneret (Sea of Gallilee) even though we had to give them strict instructions not to pee or sneeze in Israel’s drinking water.Good thing our vacation will be over in the next day or so — I’d hate to accidentally overcharge anyone’s batteries.
The Baby is Here!
Yakira Miriam
Must’ve been Christian tourists
A man and his ever-nagging wife went on vacation to Jerusalem. While they were there, the wife passed away. The undertaker told the husband, “You can have her shipped home for $5,000, or you can bury her here, in the Holy Land, for $150.” The man thought about it and told him he would just have her shipped home.
The undertaker asked, “Why would you spend $5,000 to ship your wife home, when it would be wonderful to be buried here and you would spend only $150?”
The man replied, “Long ago a man died here, was buried here, and three days later he rose from the dead. I just can’t take that chance.”
Contact Hypothesis
After working for an hour and a half on my assignment covering ethnocultural tension, multicultural citizenship, contact hypothesis and sustained dialogue, I left the office and waited for my ghetto bus with everyone else. There I was, holding my English newspaper, feeling 10,000 miles away from the group of teen Ethiopians sing songing next to me; there they were, feeling 10,000 kilometers away from the group of young arsim rowdying nearby; there they stood, seeming 10,000 kilometers away from the dati-leumi (national religious) girl, standing and waiting for our ghetto bus.
We all faced each other, but we were all 10,000 miles away, with our backs turned.
If only I could hand that in as my paper: an example of our little society, pre-sustained dialogue, pre-contact, pre-intergroup relations.
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