March 2005 (one of my favourites)

ISAACS FAMILY NEWSLETTER – Mar 31st, 2005, 21st Adar B

A day in the life of the Isaacs Family

4:00
Groggily, Judy nudges me. “Michael”. Even more groggily, I pull myself out of bed. No words needed. The unspoken continuation is… “the dogs are barking. Elisheva (5 months) is sick; I’ve been up half the night with her. Please see what’s wrong…”. Rolling semi-conscious downstairs to discover which cat has got our dogs’ goat, I see a light left burning. What a waste. Then I hear tapping at the keyboard. Ari (17) is on the ICQ.
- Ari - No answer.
- Ari! - Still no answer.
- A R I!!!
- What? - he answers innocently, with one and three quarter eyes still on the computer screen.
- Didn’t you hear the dogs barking?”
- No - I pause. He is right. The dogs are silent.
- Aren’t you going to bed?
- I couldn’t sleep. And Daddy, you can reset your alarm clock. I’ll wake the boys for school - Elon at 5.40 and Naphtali at 6.10, right?
- Yes. Thank you darling – Not the response you’d expect from a father who caught his school-age son wide awake at 4am on a school day, but I appreciate the extra hour’s sleep I’ll get thanks to Ari's kind offer to wake his brothers. I hobble back to my inviting single bed. Abigail (3) is there. She must have been woken by the dogs. I cuddle up with Abigail. She is loving and affectionate, but now I’m going to wake up with a back-ache. I rapidly sink off to sleep. Not ten seconds later, the dogs suddenly start howling like never before.

Another dawn breaks on the Isaacs family.

7:15
The alarm rings. Today is the one day of the week that Judy gets a lie in. Trying not to wake her or Elisheva, I tiptoe around the room, lifting strewn clothes and belongings so as to dress silently on the landing, with the bedroom door closed, lest the ruffling of my shirt or the jingle of change in my pocket disturb my tired princess. As I kick my last shoe out the door, my cellular phone slips out a pocket smashing to the floor. “Sorry...”.

7:18
I peek into the bedrooms. Ari, Elon (14) and Naphtali’s (12) beds are all empty. They’re off to school. Ari kept his word. I gently nudge Orly (10) for the first time: “Daddy, five minutes more. Please”. This is the first installment of what Louis XIV called “le grand reveil” (pardon my French). I wake Orly on average four times before she emerges from bed. Each wakening is progressively louder and less gentle. At the first call, she requests five minutes more; at the second call, two minutes more; at the third call, 20 seconds. The fifth wake up call, if needed, often involves cold water.

I descend the stairs to make the small children’s sandwiches. Peering over the door of the fridge I espy a child, fully-dressed, ready for school, asleep on the couch. I make a quick calculation. 3 children woke up; 2 made it to the school bus. Not bad. There have been worse days. I spread a handy blanket over Naphtali, letting him sleep warmly for another 15 minutes.

7:54
I lift Abigail into the car still asleep. She likes to wake in her car seat. I drop Orly at school seconds before the 8 o’clock bell, drive to gan (nursery school), dress Abigail in the car (she loves that), and take her in. From the window, Abigail waves an enthusiastic though impatient goodbye, eager to get down to the serious business of gan. I drive to work. Naphtali sits half-dazed in the car, gradually getting his morning bearings. Fortunately, all three boys go to school near my work. When they miss their school bus, Daddy does the delivery instead.

16:00
The phone rings. It’s Judy. “Ari came home at 2pm today. He skipped his last three lessons. He said two of them are boring and the teachers are idiots, and the other one he knows everything anyway, and he needs to sleep. Elon called. He wants you to pick him up on the way back at 7pm after his table tennis game so that he can come home to walk and feed the dogs. Naphtali’s out on his roller-blades with his friends. Don’t let him watch “A star is born” until he’s done his history homework. Orly is playing with a friend in Shaarei Tikva. Please pick her up on your way home. She asked if we can rent a film. Remember you have to be back by 7.30 today. I’m teaching. Abigail has a runny nose again. Don’t let her anywhere near the baby. I’ve made a soup and a salad for supper. Don’t worry about the washing. Just look after the baby. Must go now. Love you. Bye.”

And the only thought going through my head is “Will I get my run in the gym today?”

17:30
I reschedule one meeting, send a representative in my place to a second, call in sick for a third, and make a vague excuse about a parents’ meeting for a fourth. I get my gear together, lock the office door and slip out silently. Just beside the lift, another obstacle. The VP of Marketing, visiting from England, spots me. No choice. Have to chat him up. 12 minutes wasted. I’ll run for half an hour, instead of three quarters.

20:00
The Isaacs taxi arrives home with Elon and Orly aboard (no film). Judy won’t be back till 10:30. Till then, it’s me and Barbara. Barbara looks after Elisheva, I have the rest. None of the children want soup. OK. So cook your own supper. For the most part, they do – Ari (who has just woken up from his afternoon sleep) makes rice and tofu; Elon fries six egg whites; Naphtali wants nothing. I have no idea what or when or whether he eats; pasta or toasted sandwiches for Orly; and Abigail - she scoops the creamy part off all the milky yoghurts in the fridge. I settle into what Judy prepared plus all the leftovers. I’m stuffed.

21:00
Naphtali won’t do his homework. Orly won’t go to bed. “A star is born” has started. No point even nagging now. Parents need to recognize defeat well in advance. Abigail falls asleep on the couch. I cover her with that handy blanket I used this morning to cover Naphtali.

22:30
Judy arrives home from work and the whole household glows. The children embrace her. She talks to each one, listening patiently to their petty problems and catty complaints. She quizzes them about their day. Judy knows for each child which lessons they had today, the names of their teachers, what homework had to be done, when their next tests are, and their grades. The older children answer her - during the commercial breaks.

23:00
We start telling the children to go to bed. They don’t even pretend to listen. When they sense we’re getting serious, all of a sudden Ari remembers he needs a bath, Elon has to take the dogs for a walk, Orly has homework to do that totally slipped her mind, and Naphtali…well…it’s just too early for Naphtali to go to bed.

01:00
Bed-time for Mummy and Daddy. The house is quiet; the children asleep. I curl up under the covers. There is a faint tap tap tapping on the computer keyboard. The dogs prowl restlessly.

Michael, Judy,
Ari, Elon, Naphtali, Orly, Abigail and Elisheva Isaacs