This Week: Something Like Whiplash

Still trying to get help for the Big Kid. And for us.

Do we look tired? Cause we are.

Dear fam,

Last week, I had two days off of work to in honor of Sukkot, the Jewish festival of booths. The holiday is meant to remind us of what our ancestors experienced as they wandered in the wilderness for 40 years on their way to Canaan. In order to fully embody this, we’re commanded to build temporary dwellings (sukkot) and live in them for a week. The dwellings can only have three walls, and you have to be able to see the sky through the sekhakh (boughs) you use for a roof.

As a kid, my siblings and I would sometimes spend nights in our sukkah (the singular form of sukkot), the chilly Jerusalem air on our cheeks as we fell asleep under the desert stars. I love this memory.

I’d been looking forward to Sukkot this year; having a backyard means I can celebrate this holiday with my daughters now. So, we bought a sukkah frame and the Four Species (four plants you’re supposed to gather for a holiday ritual, it’s a whole thing), and got to work building our temporary dwelling

The whole time, Big Kid has been super into the holiday. Actually, she surprised us by insisting on eating dinner in the sukkah all week, which has been really lovely. In the evenings, after we finish our mac n’ cheese or spaghetti n’ ketchup¹, we’ve been taking a moment to lay on the grass and count stars.

Pretty magical.

The building part was not magical. Unfortunately, the kit we bought came without instructions, so my wonderful dad and I built the whole thing twice, along with an increasingly frustrated Big Kid. She struggles more than the average bear with things not gong the way she imagined them, and that made it tough for her to be in the limbo of an unfinished hut. Especially as my dad and I held up different bits and tried to intuit how they were supposed to connect. The more lost we got, the more panicked she became.

And, of course, since nothing happens in a vacuum, Big Kid was arriving at the sukkah-building project within the context of a difficult week. As a family, we’ve been trying to navigate her transition into kindergarten. For those of you who are new here, Big Kid was recently diagnosed with ADHD² , with a hearty side helping of variegated anxiety. She is a fantastic kid — creative and smart and joyful and funny — who is also fiercely defiant and strong-willed. Sitting still at a desk and following instructions is not exactly her most favorite way to spend a day.

This week, after many months of nonstop anxiety-induced meltdowns a day (imagine your child howling like a wounded animal for an hour or so, inconsolable no matter what you do. Five times a day) we introduced two new elements into her care routine: (a) the teensiest dose of an anti-anxiety medication and (b) a one-on-one aide to help her in class.

The former has been amazing — she has less nightmares, is more able to manage disappointment, and moves through her emotions instead of getting stuck in a feedback loop of panic and rage.

The latter has been a major disappointment. Her aide is fine, I guess, but she seems a little light on experience and our Big Kid is a handful. And she seems not to understand that Big Kid desperately wants to behave herself, she just can’t because she can’t control herself. No amount of saying you’re disappointed in a kid who can’t control her impulses will make her control them.

We’re not giving up, though. We’re working with the aide to help her learn how to work with our kid — both of them have an opportunity to grow here. Just like the aide can do some learning, it’s important for Big Kid to learn people can grow and are worthy of second chances.

While everyone is growing, though, Big Kid is still struggling to make it through a full day of kindergarten. She told me last week, in a moment of admirable clarity, that “it’s too hard to listen all day.” Which, honestly, I resonate with a whole lot. I still can’t listen all day; if I had to go back to school, I’d probably cry all afternoon, too.

Which is what Big Kid did for three days last week. Every time something went wrong with the sukkah, or she didn’t get the slice of pizza she wanted, or we forgot her skateboard gear — she howled. Hearing your child cry as if her heart is breaking is like a cheese-grater on your soul. It wounds.

I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever truly recover from the soul-bruises of these years of hearing Big Kid wail so much, so often, so deep.

Every day at the Chaos Palace in the past few weeks has been a rollercoaster — gorgeous, calm hours of fun times punctuated by sudden meltdowns that disappear as quickly as they came. To help ourselves through the lows, my wife and I are focusing on the highs:

• Both kids are watching something on the iPad, when Big Kids leans over nonchalantly and kisses her little sister on the head. Toddler smiles. “Did you just kiss you sister?” I ask, “Oh yeah,” says Big Kid, “I do that, like, all the time.”

• Big Kid putting the Beatles Hard Day’s Night on the turntable and we have a spontaneous dance party

• Making up a song about space aliens with Big Kid playing her new guitar, a hand-me-down mini-Squire

• The whole family playing basketball on the blacktop, giggling nonstop as we all fail to make a basket

• Fall afternoons at the skate park, Big Kid learning to ride the ramps and Toddler sliding down the ramps until her bottom is completely filthy

• Morning snuggles, both girls curled up like commas against our bellies

• Playdates with besties, making fruit-shakes, climbing trees, barefoot running around the yard

But how do you focus on these? Any momfluencer can tell you to focus on the positive and, respectfully, screw that — when your kid is in pain it overwhelms any and every other experience you had that day.

We need tangible, actionable strategies to help with the focusing.

One of the things I love best about Judaism is how hands-on it is. When you say thanks for something, you hold the thing. When you say you’re going to bow, you bow. We thank G-d for objects, for capabilities, for moments. We call attention to physical aspects and reflections of divinity in every day life. While there’s a lot of abstract in Jewish thought and philosophy, the practice is very, well, practical.

I tend to think we can extrapolate from this and apply it to daily life. Instead of thinking abstractly that I should think happy thoughts³, what if I had a practice for doing this? Keep a journal, write a Substack, take a second to say “click” to take a mental picture like Cam Jansen — whatever the hell works for you, as long as it’s practical. What do you do to hold on to the good moments so they don’t get lost?

I can offer this one tidbit from Jewish practice — the shehechiyanu prayer. One of my favorite blessings, this short prayer is traditionally said when arriving at a new milestone or doing something you’ve never done before.

Shehechiyanu, as portrayed by artist (and family friend) Julie Staller-Pentelnik [link to purchase a print]

Baruch atah Adonai elokeinu melech ha-olam she-hechiyanu v’kiyemanu v’higiyanu lazman hazeh // Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustenance, and permitted us to reach this season.

When we take a moment to say this prayer, we recognize that we could just as easily have not been granted this moment. Even if it’s just a hug, or the thrill of seeing my kid get her skateboard trick right, or a moment of familial calm — it’s a gift.

These days, we may only have time to micro-dose our gratitude. So, take a moment and say thank you. Or click. Or take a breath. Whatever makes sure your islands of joy aren’t drowned in the sea of challenges.

Sending love,

Mikhal

Welcome to the Chaos Palace is about coloring outside society's boring ol' lines.

More specifically, it's about ADHD, parenting, queerness, and Judaism. Subscribe to get new ideas (big and small) about how to expand the boundaries of societal rules. Paying subscribers get updates from my own Chaos Palace, as well as conversations with folks who are whistling their own quirky tune and reported essays — for just $5 a month (or $55 for the year)! I also write poems sometimes, as well as thoughts about the complexities of the place I was raised in and love — Jerusalem, Israel.

And now for some links…

Here are things that I either thoroughly enjoyed or made me think about things in a new way. Or both. You get to guess which is which.

Virginia Sole-Smith

wrote about the infuriating privilege exhibited by silly momfluencer trends like 3:00 pm dinners. Exqueeze me, I am at work at 3:00 pm.

Sara Petersen

collected this truly wonderful compendium of unwanted parenting advice.

lyz

wrote about about the absence of power in the face of overwhelming disaster, as expressed in many different ways.

Bess Kalb

cracked my heart open with Yahrzeit, a piece about the grief of October 7.

Kristen Drozdowski

wrote about carrying your creativity with you in YOU are the art studio

Eva Gertz released a new album!!

Elad Nehorai

wrote about the spread of antisemitism on the left and its inextricable reliance on Elon Musk.

For Hebrew-language listeners, an interview with a young woman named Laila about life in Gaza during the past year.

For Hebrew-language listeners, an analysis of the state of the police under Itamar Ben-Gvir.

1. Where’s my Michelin star??

2. The least surprising diagnosis in the history of medicine

3. Which can helpfully give me something more to feel guilty about not doing