We hire lawyers to write up two agreements. One of them defines what constitutes a peaceful home. The second defines what will happen if Seth can’t abide by the first agreement.
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Homeless... at Home
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This diary is full of this thing with Seth, but meanwhile, when Seth is not home, life goes on in our house. Quite a bit of it.
When the lawyers were writing up how we would split up the money, I said that we must spend some money on the house. Rafi is living with just the odds and ends of furniture that don't belong anywhere else.
So the children and I were up in Rafi's room last week planning what furniture we should buy. Eli wants us to build the furniture ourselves. We were all sketching floor plans - trying to fit everything in - and I murmured, "In college, kids used to build lofts." "What's a loft, Ima?" "Oh, it’s a big platform, high up, that you can sleep on. So you don't have to have space for a bed in the room."
I knew at once that I had planted a dangerous idea in their minds. "Yes! Let's build a loft in Rafi's room! Rafi, you want to sleep up on a loft, right? We'll sleep up there with you."
I told them I don't know how to build a loft, but all week, I keep coming upon them in twos and threes, busily working with paper and pencils and rulers, designing Rafi's Loft. Yesterday, Eli explained two point perspective to the others.
They've invented lofts with trap doors, lofts with dumb waiters, and pulley systems. Lofts with lights and shelves and curtains. Lofts that open into the attic. We could take out the attic floor and have Rafi's room be two stories tall. Lofts big enough to sleep half a dozen children.
I kept reminding them that we weren't really going to build a loft. Then, I don't know how it happened, but I started finding myself right in there with the rulers and the two point perspectives. So I guess we are going to build The Loft - it's just a matter of how elaborate it will be.
Well, we came up with our hybrid loft plans. A little of what each of us wanted. My main requirement is that it won't collapse when half a dozen children are up there playing pirate ship or fort or space station or rain forest canopy.
We went to the DIY place to see what wood and hardware is available, and we refined the plans, measuring again to make sure everything will fit. (Eli says carpenters say, 'Measure twice – cut once.')
And, today we came home with a station wagon full of lumber.
The four of us were looking through the albums to find photos of Eli to display at his Bar Mitzvah weekend at the nature society field school.
Eli has so many interests and accomplishments that it's hard to find pictures not to select for the posters! We're dividing it into categories - BOATS - PROJECTS - EXPERIMENTS - TRIPS - SIBLINGS - HELPING OUT.
We spread out the pile of SIBLINGS shots, to filter it down to a couple dozen of the best photos for the poster.
Leora asked what we'll do for her Bat Mitzvah posters next year, since she's also in most of the sibling pictures. So we decided to make the SIBLING poster general. So that she, and even in four years, Rafi, can use it.
I just hope Seth's divide and conquer tactics will be resolved one way or another by Rafi's Bar Mitzvah.
One way … or the other.
I have finished my list of things I require from the marriage. This document will be attached to the Peaceful Home agreement that the lawyers draw up for us to sign.
This is not our first agreement. Sixteen years ago we shook hands on a gentleman's agreement wherein I would allow him to control everything, and he would try to be nice. That agreement failed for several reasons:
1) The agreement was vague and unwritten, and we never mentioned it afterwards. It was so ephemeral that he could deny that we even had an agreement. Ten years later, in fact, he did just that.
2) He had an 'or else' and I didn't. If I didn't obey, he would get nastier. But I had nothing to hold over his head to convince him to treat us decently. Now I do.
The issues are listed in order of importance - safeguards, treatment of the children, diagnosis, Seth's treatment of me, communication, power, money, philosophy.
Some terminology:
When I say I'm to be 'allowed' to do something, that does not mean that I acknowledge his right to prohibit these things. 'Allowed', here, means there will be no negative repercussions. Seth won't get angry - short term or long term. I won't have to wonder if I'm risking unpleasantness by doing normal things. I won't have to worry every time he's in a bad mood that I inadvertently caused it by doing something he doesn't 'allow'.
When I say 'reasonable' or 'normal' or 'regular', that means what most normal people would consider reasonable. Virtually all of our conflicts would have dissolved immediately if we had tested both of our positions for reasonableness.
I need a bank account to which he has no access, here in Israel, where I can keep enough money for the four of us to live on for awhile if we can't be in the house with him. Seth agreed to this, and it hasn't happened.
- Seth will not hit, kick, shake, push, grab, grip, throw, charge at or pinch them, or use any other physical force. No matter what they did, or how he feels.
- If Seth uses punishing or threatening words or gestures, he will tell them the reason they are being punished. This includes hateful looks, dismissing noises, physical gestures, grimaces, silent treatment, muttering, insults, avoidance, a disgusted expression, name-calling, ignoring them, etc.
If it was something they did, he will tell them what it was. If his reaction was extreme, he will apologize.
If his outburst was unrelated to their behavior, he will explain that to them, and will let them know that this is no excuse for punishing family members. He will apologize.
- Seth will not show favoritism to Rafi. He will find a way to have a relationship with Rafi, without harming the relationship between Rafi and his siblings.
- Seth will not make fun of Eli for not being like him. Seth will stop calling Eli a jerk and implying that he's a failure.
- If Seth is angry at me, he won't abuse the children as a way to let me know this.
- Seth will not give the children antisocial messages: that emotion is bad, that love is for sissies. That cooperation is bad. That only bad emotions like anger are legitimate.
Seth needs to get a diagnosis. Until he knows what his problem is, nobody can guarantee that it won't happen again.
I refuse to stay with Seth if his problems remain in place. I won't just keep giving extensions.
Seth won't try to scare me, won't look that hate look at me, insult me, refuse to speak to me, deprive me of food or sleep, isolate me.
- Communication will be allowed.
- Seth will speak to me every day, even if there's nothing that needs to be said, to let me know everything is OK.
- Seth and I will greet, apologize to, thank, and compliment each other and the children. These are not degrading and I will never have to worry I am angering him by treating him politely.
- Seth will not hold me responsible for interpreting his hints - verbal or otherwise. Tisks, huffs, growls, glances, cryptic phrases. If he has 'told' me something this way, he has not told me. I can ask for clarification. If he says it's 'nothing', I can assume he has nothing to tell me.
- If Seth is angry with us he will tell us so in words. If Seth seems to be angry with us, but hasn't told us why, we will assume it has nothing to do with us.
- Seth will keep me informed about the things a husband normally would mention to a wife.
- Seth won't sing his 'I'm not interested' song.
- The phrase "Because I said so!" will not be sufficient reason for me to do something, and the phrase, "I never told you that you could ..." will not be sufficient reason for me not to do something.
- When he installs a policy that any normal person would think strange, I don't have to go along with it.
- Decisions in the household will be decided appropriately:
----- Things that concern only Seth, he can decide on his own.
----- Decisions that concern both of us or all of us, I'll have an equal right to participate in.
----- Decisions that concern only me are mine.
- He won't test my loyalty. Won't make me decide between him and the other facets of my life.
- I want to spend money on things that are important to me. I want to buy presents for the children. I want to phone my family from time to time. I want to give charity as most people in our economic bracket do.
- If there is something the children or I want to eat, I will feel free to go out and buy the ingredients, and prepare it.
- I will be kept informed about where our money is, and where the children's money is.
- We will fix the things that are wrong in the house - finish the shelter floor, put shelves in the closet, fix up the yard so there's not so much bare dirt (or else Seth will be in charge of keeping the floors swept), put in usableable patios, sink enclosures, air conditioning downstairs, adequate lighting inside and out, curtains, light fixtures instead of bare dangling bulbs. Enlarge the kitchen window as the neighbors have all done. This house will be a nice place to live, instead of a gloomy barracks.
- We will buy instruments so the children can have music lessons.
- I will be as free to buy things for myself as Seth is to buy things for myself.
- This family will not run on an 'every man for himself' model.
- We won't relate to the family based on what's appropriate in Seth's lab, where each person tries to gain at the others' expense.
- We will rewrite the golden rule to include the clause, "… if you were that person".
- I am not 'exactly like' Seth, nor do I want to be.
- I can't read his mind.
- We don't need to spend every waking moment together.
- It is not the case that if you don't talk about a problem it doesn't really exist.
- It is not the case that one person must make all the decisions or that a man must control his wife.
- Marriage is not a battle to be won or lost. If anyone loses, everyone loses.
- Conversations are positive ways to strengthen a relationship and foster closeness.
- Love is not something to be ashamed of.
- Any theory that I'm being forced to live by, will be explained to me so I can defend my viewpoint if I disagree with it.
- Finding a reason for something that has gone wrong is the first step in dealing with a problem - not the final step.
- An apology is not degrading to the person who apologizes, and it does not normally make the other person feel badly. It is not supposed to be a disclaimer.
- The marriage, and family, and parenthood, will be normal. Regular. What most people have, expect, strive for.
- Any theory or philosophy that isn't working will be abandoned.
- There won't be experiments performed on the marriage or on the children.
When I gave the document to Dina, she flipped through all these pages of English with that glassy-eyed expression that appears on my face when I contemplate pages and pages of Hebrew. She added it to my folder and instructed me to give Seth an identical copy.
Seth didn't even make a pretense of flipping through, but just put the sheaf aside with no comment, a non-expression on his face.
After all these years, of course, I'm accustomed to his never being interested in anything I have done. But this isn't just a computer program or curtains for a child's room. His attention isn't just a nice-to-have. He has claimed that he doesn't know what I want. Well, here it is. Food for discussion to anchor twenty of our weekly meetings.
Benji pokes fun at me because I'm always coming in with some new policy or theory that I'm going to put into practice with my children, and most of the time they just fade away after a few token invocations.
A couple of months ago, I came in and announced, "I've decided that I'm going to talk to my children as nicely as I talk to Sheba!"
"That's nice," Benji commented, "so I guess it'll be 'fetch' when you want them to pick up their pack from the front hall, and 'give me your paw' when you need a hand with something? And ‘lie down’ when it’s bed time and ‘sit’ when it’s supper time?"
I grinned. "Well, Rafi asked me yesterday why I always speak in such a kind, gentle voice when I talk to Sheba. At the time, I was gently scolding her for chewing through the cord to the vacuum cleaner.
"I told Rafi that Sheba doesn't understand the words, only my tone of voice, and I love her and want her to feel accepted and loved no matter what she does. So I would never want to do or say anything to make her afraid of me.
"Afterwards, I decided that that policy should be applied to my interactions with my children, too."
Unlike many of my good intentions, though, this one has stuck. I'm still being careful to speak gently when I talk to the children.
Then today, I was jokingly berating Benji for not checking the terminology in a section he had added to one of my chapters. Poor Benji got a dejected look on his face and asked, "Could you maybe try speaking nicely to me as you do to Sheba?"
I guess that would be a good habit to get into with everyone.
I’ll only have to change one set of sheets, tomorrow. The three children have been sleeping in the loft for the past three weeks.
Rafi's loft has been such a nice project. I'm amazed at the extent to which the children did the work. I made sure it was going together as we had planned it, but the actual drilling and screwing in the bolts, they did themselves. I was mostly on the other side of the camera.
We refined our technique as we went along. The three of them cooperated so nicely. Eli, of course, as the oldest and the one who has done more projects, was directing things. But he's so good at letting the others do whatever they can. By the end, Rafi was measuring and drilling and screwing right along with the others.
A project like that gives such a feeling of accomplishment. Anyone who comes to visit has to go up and see The Loft. Rafi is the envy of all his friends. They all just spend all their time up there. Leora has had sleep-overs up there with a couple of subsets of her friends.
We love it when people ask what carpenter we hired, or if it was a kit, or where we bought it.
Eli and Leora look at their expensive but boring conventional furniture, and wish they had lofts, instead.
It will come in very handy at Eli's Bar Mitzvah. We'll have Seth's parents in Leora's room, Uncle Henry in Eli's room, and the three children up top!
When I was Eli's age, I had to do a report on a famous American for history class. I wrote about Benjamin Franklin. To my chagrin, I discovered that reporting on Ben Franklin was more like writing half a dozen reports. He was a statesman, scientist, poet, writer, printer, publisher, inventor, social innovator. What impressed me as a twelve year old was that he was well along in many of these endeavors by the time he was my age.
Just as Eli already has so many interests and abilities:
- His artistic way of looking at the world, and his drawing and painting and sewing and working with clay. I wouldn't be surprised if we wind up with a kiln at some point, though I'm not looking forward to the electric bills.
- His passion for boats. Sometimes our poor landlocked children just inflate one of our dinghies and sleep in it on the living room floor. I wouldn't be surprised if we wind up with a lake some point, though I'm not looking forward to the water bills.
- His love of hiking, camping, traveling. His bicycle is his preferred mode of transportation.
- His mania for animals. If he becomes a vet when he grows up, he has promised to let me help clean the cages.
- His love of movie making. He has filmed several productions involving scripts, props, narration, rehearsals, background music, zooming, and credits at the end.
- His involvement in inventions and projects. He always seems to know where all the materials are, around the house. He has made some very nice things out of bits and pieces of nothing.
- His love of science, technology, and inventions.
- His carpentry. Anyone who has been in our house has seen the fruits of Eli's cabinet making. A few months ago when I bought Eli a table saw, my father wrote him a long, serious letter about precautions. In the letter, Dad said that twelve seems young to use a table saw, but that if any twelve year old is mature enough for it, Eli is.
Eli has always been mature and responsible for his age. Since Eli was very small, I have looked to him for company, conversation, and advice.
Eli was a second father to Rafi, when they were younger. In fact, Rafi has referred to Eli as his 'little Abba'.
When Eli was Rafi's age, and Rafi was four, we were visiting the doll museum in Qatzrin - 100 dioramas of Israeli history from Genesis till now. Eli was explaining each diorama to Rafi in great detail, and I realized that a group of a half dozen English speaking tourists had attached themselves to Eli’s 'group' and were listening with interest to each explanation.
Seth said I'm supposed to make all this relate to Eli's Torah reading. Eli's torah portion contains the commandment to destroy the Amalekites so completely that they would not even be remembered.
That's a nice, clear cut kind of mitzvah, isn't it. Satisfying. Here's what you should do, now do it completely.
Young children need rules like this. They only understand absolutes. We tell them "Always brush your teeth!" "Never tell a lie!"
We're now in that period between Purim and Passover when we all go into a cleaning frenzy. We joke that Jewish children miss out on quality time during the pre-Passover cleaning frenzy. But then we remember that we should sanctify time, and not space, and the neglect of our families for the sake of a glistening house makes us uneasy.
Because as we mature, even the mitzvoth that sound most straight forward, really aren't. We must strive for balance.
- Between our work and our private lives.
- Between constructive correction and destructive criticism.
- Between a house that is such a mess the family can't live in it, and a house that's so neat the family can't live in it.
- Between the extremes of politics and religion and philosophy.
- Between protecting the rights of our own people, and impinging on the rights of others.
- Between over-protecting our children, and leaving them without enough support.
- Between "I am the dust of the earth" and "For my sake the world was created."
It will always be harder to hover in the middle, constantly correcting, than to charge off to one extreme or the other. As Emerson said, "Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds".
I believe that Eli will have the self awareness to perform mitzvoth responsibly. Never to use a 'principle' as an excuse to do what's easiest.
As for my wishes for Eli - mostly he seems to be fulfilling them, already. It's so rewarding for a parent to see her child turning into someone so fine.
Yesterday, at the lawyers, we were compiling a list of all of our investments – as Seth had promised to do two years ago.
Dina had me make up a preliminary list with whatever I could find out from tax returns and statements I found in the file cabinet. The lawyers had just finished listing the accounts and investments that Seth's parents manage for us, and Seth's lawyer turned to him, "And Seth, is there money of yours, or any common money, that is managed by Shlomit's family?"
Seth acted as though Zed had asked him if he ever forgets to wipe. He actually reared back as they do in the movies, a disgusted look on his face, "Of course not!!!! Why would Shlomit's family control my money???"
Dina gave me her wry smile and shook her head almost imperceptibly, rolling her eyes heavenward for a second. I gave a slight nod and shrug of my shoulders in acknowledgment.
Leora hates one of Seth's favorite expressions: "What's good for the goose is good for the gander." I guess it's OK if the gander's family controls the goose's assets. But this gander wouldn't be enough of a goose to let my family lay a finger on his.
There's something else about this session that makes me uneasy. Back in high school, when I first started helping Dad fill out my income tax returns, I asked him a question. “If our employer and the bank and the companies we own stock in, report to IRS what they pay us, why can't IRS just send us a filled out return, and we could just add anything that was missing?”
"And what's the chance," Dad grinned, "that people would report income IRS doesn't know about! People are only as complete as they are, because they suspect that Uncle Sam knows about everything."
Well, it was the same today. I listed everything I could find out by skulking around in the file cabinet, then I waited for Seth to tell me about any accounts or investments I had missed. But that wouldn't have happened, would it.
When we were in the Grand Tetons, they told us a technique for finding out how many fish there are in a lake. You introduce a hundred marked fish into the lake, and give them some time to swim around. Then you go and catch a hundred fish, and see how many of those fish are marked. If they're all marked, you assume there were no fish in the lake till you put in the indicator fish. If only two of the fish you caught have marks, then you assume that your hundred fish are 2% of the lake's population. If none of the fish you caught are marked, you can assume that your hundred were an insignificant percentage.
I should have kept back a couple of investments that I knew about, to see if Seth would have corrected my oversight. If he had pointed out exactly the ones I had 'missed', I could assume I had found all of the money. If he pointed out one of them, I could assume I had found half of the investments. And if he just shrugged and nodded, as he actually did, I would know there could be any amount of money stashed away, who knows where.
I wasn't going to write about this, but I keep thinking about it. Thinking and grinning – like the joke page at the back of Boy’s Life.
Last week, when Seth and I met with the lawyers to sort out the money, was the first time Dina had met Seth.
At one point Seth and Zed left the room to get tea for all of us, and Dina turned to me with a sour look on her face. "He's so ugly!" she exclaimed in a whisper, pressing her hand to her chest as though to help herself catch her breath.
"What?" I asked. I thought maybe I hadn't understood the Hebrew. Her statement and grimace didn't go with her lawyerly black suit and tailored white blouse.
"Seth! Your husband! He's so, so ugly! You didn't tell me he's so ... bad looking! He doesn't go with you at all!"
At that point the men returned, and I found a smile creeping on to my face several times as I looked at Seth and saw him through Dina's eyes.
Is he ugly? Before we were married, when he looked at me with a pleasant expression on his face, I thought he looked OK. Maybe it's as my grandmother used to say - that if we scowl too much it will freeze on our faces.
The Israeli equivalent of 'tall, dark and handsome' is to say you want a man like Turkish coffee. Dark and strong and sweet. I guess you could add 'warm' and 'stimulating'. None of that describes ol' Seth, does it?
And ... I think Dina's reaction broke a spell. Since that comment, when I feel intimidated by Seth, I think of her comment.
I never could understand why trials or peace agreements could take so long, but I see that each point must be examined for any way it could possibly be understood, and for all its possible ramifications.
When we first started writing up this contract, I asked to add that we would get furniture for Rafi's room. And, in less time than it has taken to finalize and sign the contract, the children and I have built his beautiful loft and shelves, and Eli has built Rafi a matching desk.
This morning Seth and I sat with Zed to set the amount that Seth will pay for child support.
As we got settled, Zed mumbled the traditional goal – that the children should be able to continue to live 'in the manner to which they are accustomed’.
Zed was surprised when I cried, 'No!' I told him that I have no intention of forcing them to live the way they have been. Even though my income will be lower, I hope to be able to skimp on things that matter less, in order to give them everything they need.
“Our children are still wearing the clothing I bought at the second hand shop in the US three years ago. They deserve to dress as their classmates dress. To have the things that their peers have.”
Seth rolled his eyes, opened his attache case and brought out some papers with lists of numbers, and his calculator. “I calculated the monthly costs of food for the family, based on what I spend on groceries every month. Here's the total for the family, so for the three children the amount is three-fifths of that amount. My half of that comes to ...” Seth did the calculation and showed the displayed result to Zed.
Zed wrote down that number and pondered it for a moment.
Seth had started explaining the next sheet of paper. “Here is what I figured a child should need per month for clothing. So that, times three, divided by two ...
“And three fifths of our utility bills, divided by two, comes to ...”
Zed added up Seth's amounts, and murmured, “OK. That looks reasonable ...”
“Zed?” He looked up from the paper. “If I were your client, and Seth were the other party, and he proposed that figure as monthly support for three teen-agers … would you still think it was reasonable?”
Zed looked down at the number. He looked up at me and said, “No, Shlomit. I wouldn't. Seth, families in your economic bracket do not expect to raise children on the budget you propose.
“These are your own children, Seth,” Zed pointed out. “Let's come up with some more reasonable numbers.”
If you're wondering why I'm writing letters instead of finishing up my income taxes - so am I.
Are your travel plans shaping up? I hope we'll see you often while you're here for Risa's Bat Mitzvah.
The dates work out well - my family's reunion is in July. We didn't go to the US last summer, and I miss my family. Seth doesn't want us to go - he's afraid we’ll fly the coop.
Have a good Passover.
Love, Shlomit
Dina and I have worked out how Seth and I will divide our assets and possessions. When I said that I don't care what I get as long as I get the children, Dina reminded me that my children don't deserve to live in poverty. Not even in the skimpy, stingy state of existence they have had until now. They have gotten precious little from their father. At least they should get enough of his money to live as their friends do.
On the other hand, I really want Seth to sign the agreement without a battle. If he thinks the agreement short changes him, he won't sign it, and it won't matter now fair it is.
So, the children and I will get half of the investments, and half of the value of the house and car. The children's furniture and possessions will come with them.
I'll get my clothes, bicycle and personal belongings. Books people have given me, and the few that I have bought. He wouldn't be caught dead with my self help books on his shelves anyway.
The plastic lawn furniture is mine - a Passover gift from work the year Leora was born. It's stained and pitted, but we can get by with that as table and chairs. The pancake griddle is also a gift from work. We could cook on that if we had to. The children are always saying let's go camping - well, they'll get their chance for a nice long indoor camping trip.
Leora's bed has a trundle I could sleep on.
Seth and I each get any gifts we got from our side of the family. So at least our walls won't be bare. We'll have Mom's quilts and the dozens of watercolors she has painted.
I want Eli to get enough of the tools that he can keep up with his carpentry.
I just remembered a clipping Kay sent me nearly twenty years ago when I had first confided to her about how scary Seth was becoming. It said, "Do you daydream of leaving? Do you even imagine what you would take with you if you did?" Well, I had, even back then.
We'll split the dishes. Most of the appliances are on their last legs. We bought the stove and fridge when we came to live in Israel two decades ago. I used the microwave to heat Leora's baby bottles.
Seth gets the TV. It’s on its last legs, too - it was our first color set, and is also around Leora's age.
Other than that - Seth can have it all. He can have the depressing brown solid teak living room, and the dining room chairs I didn't even like when he bought them. In addition to being ugly and uncomfortable, they were indirectly responsible for Seth's policy of non-communication. It was when we got home from that shopping trip on which he just chose the chairs as though I weren't even there, that I told him we needed to communicate more, and he upped that ante - said we weren't to talk at all, about anything.
He can have his phallic sputnik lamp. He can have the bedroom furniture. It would be nice to have the big wall closet, but there are too many memories in that room.
We'll manage. The living room will be kind of bare. I can always go back to using my black root beer crates for bookshelves. Since we'll all probably be sleeping in two small bedrooms, some of the children's furniture might spill over.
I look at this list. We have been together for twenty one years. We never melded, did we. You hear about discussions that go on and on because a dissolving couple can't decide who gets what. We have very little that's 'ours'. He wouldn't want any of my stuff, and I wouldn't want any of his. Sad. There never got to be an 'us'. An 'ours'. Even the poor children. Seth has decided that Rafi is his child and the other two are mine. Luckily they'll all go with me. Sheba and Sunshine too, of course.
My Mom's favorite advertisement is a New Yorker ad for a fancy clothing store - 'I dreamed I was naked in Bergdorf's!' Eli will be in seventh heaven with an empty apartment crying out to have furniture built for it.
Finally, next week we'll sign the agreement.
Now I have a new reason to procrastinate over making dentist appointments. The song they play while you're on hold, is an instrumental arrangement of Annie's Song.
The song was popular when Seth and I were first married, so of course I think of Seth whenever I hear it.
Seth did fill up my senses. Like the dark forests we camped in, and the rain and snow we took our long walks in. The stormy deserts we found in Israel, and the blue sea we could see from our window at the absorption center.
That's what you are pledging to do, when you agree to marry someone: give your love to them, drown in their laughter, die in their arms, lie down beside them, always be with them. What more could you want from a relationship than to just give it everything you've got, and know that it will last until you die. It was easy, back then, to imagine the two of us as the lovers portrayed in the song.
Over the years, after things got bad (euphemism! euphemism!) when I would hear Annie's Song, I took it as the goal to strive toward. The kind of relationship we had to somehow achieve.
Hearing the tune now makes me teary, because unless a miracle happens, or he gets bonked on the head and all of his principles fall out, I won't die in Seth's nice strong arms, nor he in mine.
But this afternoon, on hold, as I listened to the umpteenth repetition, and went over the words in my head, I realized something. I had always thought of it as a person singing about what he wanted. What he hoped for.
But that's not it, is it? The singer is asking Annie to allow him to love her. Begging to be allowed to give her everything. Requesting to be with her for his whole life, always. Asking to be allowed to die in her arms.
Because - love won't work as a one way street. You can't be devoted to someone without their permission. Without their cooperation. The other person has to let you.
And Seth just never ... 'let me ...'
OK – here’s the agreement, finally!
Don’t be puzzled by the “differences of opinion have arisen” phraseology. Dina said it has to say that. To mention the abusive relationship Seth has with the children would complicate things so that the courts wouldn’t OK the document without investigating what’s going on.
So, here it is. Eight thousand dollars, and six months for 628 words.
When I strip out the legal mumbo-jumbo, there’s not really much left.
Agreement on 'peaceful home', or, alternatively, divorce agreement. The sides request that the court confirm this agreement and give it the status of a court order.
Differences of opinion have arisen between the husband and wife. The sides will act out of mutual respect to make peace in their home. If necessary, they will seek professional help. If peace doesn't come about, they will proceed with divorce, and all that it entails.
If either side notifies the other that he cannot continue in the marriage, the two sides will, together, submit a request to divorce, to the Rabbinical court. They will fulfill all instructions of the rabbinical court.
-- Custody of the Children --
The children will stay in the custody of and under the protection of their mother until age eighteen.
The children will visit their father two evenings a week, every second Shabbat, half of summer vacations and holidays. Visitation will be in accordance with their physical and mental health.
There will be a restraining order against removing the children from the country until age 18.
-- Monetary Assets --
All monetary assets will be divided according to the division specified in the attached list. The husband declares that there are no accounts other than those listed. The wife declares that she doesn't know of any accounts other than those listed.
-- Division of property --
The house and car will be sold as soon as one side notifies the other of his/her wish to divorce. The proceeds of the sale will be divided equally.
The contents of the house will be divided according to the attached list.
OK. Now. We can get down to the real work. Seth will have to find someone more appropriate than Batia to help him with his chronic problems. And I must see what’s to be done about this critical problem, neglected while the lawyers were absorbing our concentration, Seth’s favoritism toward Rafi.
OK! Full speed ahead! Here we go! Yubba-Dubba Do! Charge! Let’s get the lead out!
Sigh. I’m just not psyched. I’m not fresh and hopeful any more. I need a cheerleader. A pep rally.
On Shabbat, the children and I were playing cards. Leora said, “Let’s play Spit.”
Eli grinned and said, in a quotey voice, “’Everybody go do pee-pee first!’” And Leora laughed, and looked at me.
“Don’t you remember, Ima? The first time we played Spit? We were little. You said, ‘I'll teach you the most exciting game in the world, but you must all go do pee-pee first!' You were so excited that you were, like, bouncing up and down.”
I laughed. “I said that? You must have been very little.”
“We were. That’s how we knew it was going to be a really fun game! If it was so exciting you could wet your pants!”
Excitement is contagious.
But so is the feeling I’m getting from Seth, that now that the contract is signed, he’d be happy to go back to ignoring the problems.
It was so considerate of you to have children a decade ahead of me, Jane. You can work out all the problems and then give me the benefit of your experience.
Three years ago, Seth suddenly fell in love with Rafi. Well, you've met Rafi. Everyone loves him.
But Seth shows his love for Rafi by demonstrating that he prefers him to Eli and Leora. The message is, "I love you best. I don't like the others."
Leora is outraged and angry. Eli still hopes to please Seth, and thinks he has a chance to rank up there near Rafi, but Jane, it will never be.
Seth invites Rafi to go for walks with him in the evening, and makes a show of not inviting the other two. When Seth comes home from work, he crows, 'Hi, Rafi! How 'ya doing?' even if Eli and Leora are right there. If Rafi isn't nearby, Seth's first question is, 'Where's Rafi?'
Rafi always gets served first at the table, and ... actively. "Here you go, Rafi!"
Leora pointed out recently that Seth never gives Rafi his allowance at the same time that he gives the other two theirs. Just says, meaningfully, "Rafi, you already got yours." Or, "You'll get yours later." And Rafi gets that grin. Leora suspects that Rafi is getting more than we think he is. More than they get.
A few months ago Seth published a paper, and put Rafi's name on it as co-author. That would be fine if Rafi were his only child, or if he had shown special interest, or if Seth were doing something special with the others, too.
The crowning touch was that last month, during Passover vacation, I mentioned to Eli and Leora, over breakfast, that Seth had taken Rafi to work with him again, early that morning. Eli was devastated. He just went up and lay on his bed weeping. When I went up, Eli asked, “Why doesn't Abba ever want to do anything with me? Abba knows that I would love to go to his work with him.” Eli and I have a good relationship, but there's no way I can make up for Seth's rejection.
I want all three children to be half mine, but since Seth pays so much attention to Rafi and none to Eli and Leora, I wind up focusing on them more, when Seth is around.
And when Seth is home, I don't dare criticize Rafi, or tell him to do anything, because Seth will explode and tell me I'm always too hard on Rafi. I don't dare say anything critical of Eli or Leora either, because Seth is always looking for an excuse to come down hard on them. And I don’t dare say anything encouraging to Eli or Leora, that might draw Seth’s attention to them so he can tear them down.
Rafi taunts Eli and Leora with his protected status.
When Seth is home, it’s Eli and Leora against Seth and Rafi. Till recently, whenever Seth wasn't around, things were normal and friendly among the children. But recently, Eli and Leora are annoyed with Rafi even during the day, and he taunts them, even when Seth isn't home.
Last week I asked Rafi to spend some time learning the multiplication tables, and he said he doesn't have to do what I say, because Seth will protect him.
Rafi refuses to do his homework when I ask him to - getting a smug smile on his face. He is winning the power struggle with me, and being one-up over his siblings, but he might have to repeat second grade.
Seth sits watching TV every evening with Rafi - eight years old - on his lap. I can't help but remember the times when Eli was five, sitting on my lap, and Seth knocked him to the floor with a scathing, "You're such a baby! You're too old to sit on laps!"
Sigh! Any suggestions? Love, Shlomit
This morning I intruded on Seth's half hour lie-in, to tell him I'm worried about the effect his favoritism is having on the family.
"I just can't love Eli and Leora," Seth stated, dismissively. Like the cleaner informing you she doesn't do litter boxes. "They just don't seem to warm up to me. Especially Eli." His son’s name was uttered with disgust.
While a dozen different thoughts were trying to crowd to the front of my speech center, Seth continued, still with the look you get on your face when you smell something rotten. "Eli is still way too much involved with friends and family. When I was twelve, I was already completely independent and self-sufficient. I wasn't always looking for other people. I didn't need friends or family around all the time. I could entertain myself."
When Seth was twelve, he took all his belongings and moved down to live in the basement, emerging only for meals. And now Seth wants warm loving caring responsible Eli to be as isolated and alone and misanthropic and selfish as he is?
"Seth, the conflicts between Rafi and his siblings is getting worse."
"So you're excusing Eli and Leora’s behavior and blaming it on me. Maybe you should be having a little talk with them instead of with me. Your perfect little prince and princess have always been mean to Rafi!"
"No! Seth! No! They were all really good friends until ... you know ... until you started doing things only with Rafi and buying him things, and having secrets."
"I'm allowed to do things with my own child, Shlomit."
"Of course you are! The things you're doing with Rafi are wonderful! Just - think how it feels to Eli and Leora. And it's not fair to Rafi, either. When you make him keep secrets from the others, it ... puts a wall between them. I need your help to make things better among the children, Seth."
"Fine. You want me to keep the children from squabbling? No problem!" He finished dressing and went downstairs. Somehow that sounded more like a threat than a promise.
And … Seth is cultivating closeness with Rafi. He's not training Rafi to be emotionless and alone. He’s rewarding Rafi for being dependent – the very trait he despises in Eli.
I hoped that I might be seeing you this summer, but Seth won't let me take the children to the US, and he himself doesn't want to go. Obviously I can't leave the children here alone with him when I'm thousands of miles away.
I don't think Seth ever knew what marriage should be. So as long as he has us all under the same roof, he thinks he's winning.
OK. I'll stop here with my griping.
--- next day ---
Lawyers are great!
Dina told me that there was actually nothing to be done about Seth's refusal to let me take the children. According to international law, no one can take a child across national boundaries without both parents' permission.
But then Dina told Seth, in front of his lawyer, that she could get a court order to let me take my children to visit their grandparents. She said it so forcefully that Zed didn't dispute her. Zed has said that only if things are normalized will the marriage hold together. So Seth agreed that I can take them.
So – I'll see you this summer. I can't wait!
Love, Shlomit
Just about every week, when we reach a dead end in our weekly talk sessions, I say, "Maybe you could see what Batia says about this."
A couple of times Seth has jotted down points in his daybook, supposedly to bring up with her, but I rarely hear afterwards whether they actually discussed the problem. If I ask, he usually shrugs and says, "Nah …"
Then today, I asked him what Batia says about the increasing antagonism between Rafi and the other two.
Seth tisked an annoyed tisk and said, "Look, Shlomit, Batia and I don't talk about things like that."
"Well, I don't know what you do talk about, Seth, but it seems to me that your sessions with her are a waste of time and money, for all the good that comes out of them. There are all these unresolved issues, and you and she never seem to get around to them.”
"Shlomit. It's my time and it's my money. What I do with my own time and my own money is up to me."
"Oh - you're paying for the sessions with your money?"
"Of course I am!”
“Oh. So …”
“So what goes on between me and Batia has absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s my own private business, and you can just keep out of it. Batia is helping me be more effective in my dealings with people at work.”
“Oh. I thought …”
“Well, I don’t know what you thought, but I never indicated that my meetings with Batia had anything to do with … this ‘divorce’ mess.”
It’s true. He never has. OK. I guess the sessions with Batia can be officially discounted as a resource. The little flicker of hope I feel on Sunday nights that maybe tonight he’ll come home with some new insights … guess he just doused that, didn’t he.
The children and I are on the plane back from a great family reunion and pleasant visits with Jane and Roger and Becky.
What struck me, visiting these couples who have been married for 15, 20 or 25 years, is how settled they are with each other. The frantic period of raising little children is over and they can sit back and enjoy their older children. They're economically secure and can enjoy life and each other. Getting together with me turns conversations nostalgic. I saw it again and again over the past three weeks. Smiling middle-aged couple. "Remember the time ...", "Remember back when ..."
Seth and I don't do that spontaneously, of course. Our past together is bad. Seth wants to pretend it never happened. If we talk about the past, it's in a therapist's office and then we each have very different memories of what happened.
The mellow couples we visited also remember different parts of the same event, but their memories complement each other.
Jane has a beautiful old quilt displayed in her family room. "I found it in a trunk in Rich's mom's attic."
"No ..." Rich frowned, "I think this was the one we got in Maine ..."
"Oh, that's right! At a shop on the way to ..."
"Or at that auction?”
"Right! We were just driving along ..."
"Dying for showers and supper after the beach ..."
"... and there was a sign ..."
"... a huge farmhouse ..."
"… Ryan was just getting over chicken pox ..."
Smiling, laughing, and when Rich bent over to look at the back of the quilt, Jane rested a hand on his back. They just have the look and feel of a couple. Generous. Together. Augmenting each other. Where they can, they take on each other’s preferences as their own. Where they can't, they're good humored about it - knowing the other isn't trying to be selfish. I suppose there have been disagreements over the years, but what I'm seeing is the result of their successful resolution. It's the same with my parents and the other established couples we visited. They're mellow.
There were some things at the beginning that Seth and I got from each other - he started camping, and became more religious. I guess I introduced him to ethnic food. Because his family was Jewish and mine wasn't, our household is run pretty much as theirs was.
But, we've never mellowed. I can’t relax with him because after all these years I still don’t know him. Can’t predict him. Don’t trust him.
There was a 'piguah' yesterday. Another terrorist attack. At the outdoor market in Jerusalem this time. The shuk. Suicide bombers blew up themselves and a dozen passers by.
Your first thought is always, 'Who do I know who might have been there, then?'
When I called Malki's mother today with some ideas for the Bat Mitzvah weekend Leora and Malki will be celebrating together next month, I found out. Among those murdered is the daughter of a mutual friend. Yael was Eli's age. She and her family would have been with us at the Bat Mitzvah weekend.
I can't begin to imagine what it's like to lose a child that way. To send her out to get some cucumbers and ... she never comes back. Instead, you hear sirens. At first, of course, you pay no attention except for a fleeting prayer for whoever is involved. Sirens always mean somebody is having a bad time. Then you hear radios turned up loud. From the neighbor's window, or the next cubicle at work. You listen, with interest and only a tinge of fear, until you hear that the piguah was at the shuk and why hasn't she called or hurried home to tell you, "It's OK, Ima! I'm safe!" Where is she, where is she, where is she and what's happening to her and I just want to hold my baby! She needs me now, and where is she! It's my only job right now, to be with my little girl, and I don’t know where she is.
Then, instead of hearing your daughter clatter and chatter into the house, there’s that dreadful formal knock on the door.
A dozen times a day you think about your children's future. As often as you remember how special they were when they were little, your mind stretches in the other direction. What kind of father or mother they will be. What kind of husband or wife. When Yehudit brags about her grandchildren, I imagine an older Leora and her family visiting me with a gaggle of toddlers as adorable as she herself was a decade ago.
Next time Leora wants to take the bus to Jerusalem to visit Malki, how can I let her go? I'll be terrified.
Terrorism terrifies.
It's not just the sorrow of loss and the realization that bad things can happen. Walking Sheba tonight, my thoughts turned to several neighbors who have suffered the loss of a child. A drowning. A soldier who was one of the 73 who went down in the helicopter accident last winter. A little boy with CP. A schoolboy hit at a zebra crossing. Tragic. Awful. But ... we know that the sea can be dangerous. And we know that soldiers are at risk. Many victims of cerebral palsy don't survive to adulthood. And it's risky to be a pedestrian.
These don't instill terror. You can investigate why these tragedies happened, and people can try to be more careful.
Terrorism instills terror because it's random. It's unpredictable. You weren't knowingly engaging in an activity that should get you blown up. It does no good, now, to decide, 'I'll avoid the shuk,' because the next one might be at the pizza place.
Not that I'm trying to compare my husband with a terrorist, but the things Seth does are terrible for us for the same reason. He's unpredictable. You can't use logic to keep yourself safe from an attack. I can't look back, now, at all the years, and say, "I should have ..." because I don't understand what motivates him. Eli and Leora can't decide to join Rafi as a favored child, because none of us – including Rafi - understand how Rafi got there.
They're very smart, these terrorists. With a minimum of effort, they can make a big impact on our lives, because they keep it random.
If Seth would help me understand him, it would take away a big advantage he has over us. I claim I will put up with the gloom and rage, but I've got to understand it better. But maybe that's like saying to a suicide bomber, "Go ahead and blow yourself up if you want, but first tell us where and when you plan to do it, so we can get everybody out of the way and board up the nearby windows."
The explosion wouldn't have its intended impact if we could predict it.
It's so nice to have this 'allowance' as Seth calls it when he gives me my check for the month. Yuck. That sounds awful. It's coming from our common account and I could write my own check. I could write his check. Or we could take turns.
As it is, I leave it to him, to make it less distasteful to him to be giving me money. I don't think he would intentionally cheat me, but ... he does know how to justify doing things in a way that's beneficial to him. But he is still my husband. Till I'm out, I'm in, I guess.
I hope to accumulate a nest egg so that if we do have to leave in a hurry, we'll be able to. But I also use my ‘allowance’ for things Seth would veto or that would make him scowl that threatening clenched-teeth scowl.
The children and I bought a bean bag chair. I got a pretty salt and pepper shaker set just to sort of celebrate being able to. We've bought drinks or ice cream out, a couple of times. The children sometimes look longingly at something, see my helpless face, then we realize we're not helpless anymore! They ask, "Can we? Out of your money, Ima?"
And I pay the animal expenses. Last night we were buying catfood. "Oh, wait!" I cried as I snatched back the credit card from our joint account, that I had gotten out by mistake, and dug for my own, instead. (Yes, Virginia, after all these years with no credit card, I now have two!)
Leora asked, "What does Abba buy with his allowance, Ima?"
"Oh ... I'm not sure, Honey. I never asked."
"But ... does he also have two credit cards and does he really buy stuff with his?" she persisted.
"Maybe ... his cassette tapes?" I proposed. I had bought an Enya CD for the children the day before. "Or, maybe books ... or ... clothes ..." I sounded more and more unsure with each thing I thought of. Since it never occurred to him to ask my permission to spend money, would he suddenly see his discretionary spending as ... discretionary?
Maybe the gifts he buys for Rafi. Maybe that was why Seth was so defensive when we talked about Rafi, because it sounded as though I was trying to tell him what to do with his own money.
Am I being a frier again, by playing it straight with my allowance? Other than his weekly check to Batia, is he spending his allowance at all, on things parallel to what I spend mine on?
"Abba bought his broom ..." Eli suggested, after giving Leora’s question some thought.
I laughed. "No, I don't think so. That broom was for the whole family."
"No, Ima, yours is for the whole family. Abba's is only for him."
"Why?" Rafi asked, understandably confused.
"We had two old brooms," Leora explained, "One for inside the house and one for the front walk. Abba and Ima bought both of those together."
"Nope!" I interrupted, laughing, "We didn’t actually buy either of them. The old one was an old broom of Grandma's that she gave Abba when he went away to grad school."
"So old?" Leora asked, and I could see that glow she gets in her eye when she has an excuse to do a calculation. "Grad school is after college," she told Rafi, "So ... if Abba was twenty ... um ... two? Plus the years that it was Grandma's … The sidewalk broom is thirty years old! Wow!"
"And the ‘new’ one," I continued, "The indoor broom was an old broom the builders left at our house by mistake."
"When Eli was one?” Leora gasped. “So the NEW broom is twelve years old. Plus the time the builders used it. So anyway, the outside broom, Grandma's broom, you know how it was. Stiff. It didn't even sweep. So Abba bought a new broom for the inside and the ... the builders' broom was for the sidewalk. But remember one time Eli used the red broom - Abba's new broom - for the walk, and Abba got so mad, so Ima bought the blue one with her money and she said anybody could use it for whatever they wanted. So now all of us use Ima's blue broom so we don't have to make sure we're using the red broom for the right thing, and only Abba uses his broom."
The rest of the way home they discussed whether Abba should have bought his own broom with his own money.
I said that they sound like a bunch of high powered lawyers. "Maybe you should all go to law school and be Dekel, Dekel and Dekel. There could be three palm trees on your letterhead."
"No!" Leora gasped excitedly, clutching my arm, skipping along sideways, "We could use our triple name! Ima - look how our names go together: ELioRafi. It's my name, spelled with an I instead of an E, with an E on the front and a F-I on the end."
"No it isn't," Eli contradicted. “It's my name and Rafi's with an O in between, right Rafi?"
These children are so much fun.
Eli has been going to art therapy for a few months now. The therapist said that there's no point in dealing with the surface problem of his feeling worthless and rejected and fearful, if the problems in our home haven't been dealt with. As long as his father rejects him, it does no good for her to try to convince Eli that he isn't worthless.
Eli had also said he feels fine when he’s working with Ruth, but when he comes home, he sinks right back down under everything
So I've been spurred to action again.
For one thing, I finally wrote a will to ensure that someone watch over my children if I'm not around, and that someone assess Seth's condition and ability to raise them. Leora has been asking me for years to make sure that if I die, they won't have to live with Abba.
Even though he signed the Shalom Bayit agreement that specifies that he’ll get help, he has not done anything on his own. I have to do something about that.
I have to feed Eli's Tamaguchi. Just a minute.
I like the Tamaguchi's instructions for 'discipline': "If the discipline index is zero, pet will become naughty and will refuse to play with you or will not eat even if he feels hungry. If you should beat and educate the pet, discipline index will increase. If discipline index reaches maximum, further beating may kill pet." I wish my children had indexes to show me what I need to do more of or less of.
I reminded Seth last night that the Shalom Bayit agreement stipulates that he must get professional help.
"Well, I'm going to Batia," he said, as though I must be hallucinating to have forgotten.
"But you said you're not working with her on ... the things that are causing the problems in the family." We need a red flashing light attached to our foreheads, that blinks when we speak in euphemisms.
"Well, no, not specifically. But ... long term ... anything I work on with her might ..."
"No, Seth. I'm not going to hang around and wait for 'long term' changes that 'might' happen. Batia is a social worker, Seth. Depression is not her field."
"It's not 'depression', Shlomit. We've been through this."
"So what is it, Seth?" I asked, without enthusiasm.
"You're a broken record, Shlomit! You're a broken record!"
"Seth, the children are getting older. Eli starts high school next year. He has only four more years at home. The longer we wait ..."
"Good!" Seth interrupted, "See? Then the problems are really only temporary. In another few years, the kids will be gone, and it'll be just us again. And things will go back to the way they were before the kids were born!"
Am I really hearing what I'm hearing? The eight years before Eli was born were easily the worst of my entire life.
And - 'just us' has always meant the children and me - the calm good times when Seth isn't home.
When Eli was a couple of weeks old, Seth joked, "So eighteen years from now this kid will be grown up and on its own and things will quiet back down around here?" Maybe he wasn't joking, and has been waiting impatiently, all this time, for them to just be gone.
Seth tisked and shook his head. "I thought this thing with the lawyers was supposed to put an end to these threats," he muttered.
"No, Seth! No! It was supposed to give you time to do something concrete. If you don’t work on your problems, Seth, you’re in breach of contract, and I …"
"Fine. Whatever you want. Find somebody and we'll go for 'professional help'"
I didn't quibble with the pronoun.
I'm glad Marie from Jewish Family Services in the US wasn't looking in my windows as I went down to look in the yellow pages for a psychiatrist with an English sounding first name.
The children, now that they're getting to be teenagers, are starting to make their own phone calls. They're embarrassed if I go to the school and ask about a lost jacket, or call their Hebrew tutor to say I'm not sure what time tomorrow’s lesson is.
The children are gaining independence by leaps and bounds. As shy as Eli is, he takes a deep breath and does things on his own. Because the alternative, "Hello, this is Eli's mother, he wants to know ..." is too embarrassing to contemplate.
I love seeing their independence. All over again, it’s the wonder with which I viewed them as two year olds, as they struck out on their own to meet their world. Hopefully armed with skills I helped to teach them.
But Seth is still the dependent he has always been, I thought, as I dialed the number and said, "Hello, Dr. A? My name is Shlomit Dekel. I'm calling for my husband ..."
The children were watching the Discovery channel and I heard Leora declare, "Well, Abba sure never does any of that!"
The program was about how fathers and sons show affection. Many fathers don't tell their sons they love them, in so many words, but all the rough housing that goes on between a father and his children - especially his sons - is a way to foster closeness. All the tickling, wrestling, tossing up into the air, slaps on the back, mock punches, head locks, and hair tousles.
We watched as one 'typical male bonding behavior' after another was demonstrated - apparently culled from home movies. Nope ... nope ... nope ... can't picture Seth in that scene ... none of that around here ... 'fraid not.
Leora noticed that I was grinning and asked me what I was thinking about. “A friend of mine from work once told me about wrestling with his two little boys so hard they broke the sofa!”
“Was that Benji?” Eli asked, his eyes sparkling at the thought of a father wrestling around with his boys.
“No – David. I worked with David a long time ago. Before you were born. He’s the one who made up the MISHMISH-TARA riddle.”
“APRI-COP!” Rafi exclaimed and we all laughed.
Then the documentary showed two brothers teasing and wrestling like a couple of puppies, as Eli and Rafi do sometimes. Grinning, shrieking, grunting, laughing. The program said this tumbling fosters closeness between male siblings.
"Probably Abba never tumbled around with Uncle Jerry and Uncle Roger when they were boys, and that's why he's not friends with them, now." Leora guessed.
And, of course, when Eli and Rafi do engage in a friendly tussle when Seth is around, they get yanked apart and told they should be ashamed of themselves.
"I guess Abba doesn't know it's just 'male bonding'." Rafi pronounced the new buzzword carefully.
I'm hearing an echo of what Seth's father told eighteen-month-old Eli when he presumed to kiss his grandfather on the cheek. "We don't kiss in this family."
Guess we don't bond in this family.
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Copyright 2020 by Shlomit Weber
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