Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Torat Yisrael

Warning: The following post may exceed definitely exceeds the recommended daily allowance for political essays. Proceed at your own risk.

In shul this past Shabbat, our community’s Rav declared that he isn’t endorsing any particular party.

However, he stressed that each person should vote for the party that s/he believes would best protect and defend Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael v’Torat Yisrael (the People of Israel, the Land of Israel, and the Torah of Israel).

How should one determine which party best meets this criteria?

The Rav observed that the Hebrew word melech (king) is comprised of three letters:

• Mem – which stands for mo’ach (the brain), which represents the intellect.
• Lamed – which stands for lev (the heart), which represents the emotions.
• Kaf – which stands for kaved (the liver), which represents ka’as, anger.

According to the Rav, it’s not coincidental that the Mem comes first, because when it comes to matters of state, the intellect must take the lead.

Similarly, the Rav continued, when deciding how to vote, one should be guided primarily by one’s intellect.

Therefore, even if one is upset or even angered by something that a certain party did or didn’t do, one should still make a rational, objective calculation about whether or not that party is nevertheless best able and most likely to protect and defend Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Torat Yisrael.

As I noted above, the Rav was very careful to avoid endorsing or even recommending any particular party.

In contrast, I admit that I have much less compunction, and thus, I will state the following:

1) The would-be duumvirate known locally as “Tzippi/Bouji” has made it quite clear that Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Torat Yisrael do not play prominent (or perhaps even any) roles in its members’ Leftist and post-Zionist worldviews.

2) Voting for any of the self-styled “Centrist” parties – including Yisrael Beiteinu, Kulanu, and most especially Yesh Atid – will enable Tzippi/Bouji to form and lead the next government.

My dear friends, please keep these two very important points in mind when heading to vote tomorrow.

May these elections herald besurot tovot, yeshu’ot v’nechamot (good tidings, salvation, and consolation) for Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Torat Yisrael.

A beautiful election story

Although it’s been two weeks since the municipal elections, the excitement has yet to die down.

In a handful of cities, run-offs are being held today, because no single candidate garnered a clear majority. Meanwhile, serious allegations of widespread fraud and vote tampering have prompted residents of another city to demand an investigation and, if necessary, a revote.

Would it be totally inappropriate for me to take advantage of their situation to plug my post on Torani communities? ;-) </shameless self-promotion>

And outside the cities – i.e. in the villages, kibbutzim, moshavim, and other smaller communities that make up the rest of the country – the process is only just beginning. Elections for the regional and local councils are not scheduled to take place until December.

Yet, contrary to what some of the above would lead you to believe, elections don’t necessarily have to be about infighting and controversies.

I mean, consider the following story:

With the permission of the administration, the Shminist and the other 12th graders at his yeshiva high school were hired to work for a certain political party on Election Day. (The money they earned will go toward the Hachtarah, their graduation, and other end-of-the-year activities.)

Each senior was given a different job, and the Shminist was assigned to a particular voting station as an observer (i.e. a mashkif, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you).

The people at the station – both the election officials and the voters - represented a wide array of parties, but nevertheless, a wonderful sense of camaraderie pervaded the room. For instance, they joked about which party brought its employee the best food. (All agreed that the Shminist and his party won, hands down. Apparently his pizza trumped everyone else’s egg sandwiches and tired pastries. :-))

In any event, at about 2-3 in the afternoon, things quieted down, during the lull between the lunch break crowd and the post-work rush. Someone suggested that it would be a good time to daven minchah, but a quick count revealed that there were only 8 kippah-wearing men in the immediate vicinity.

But before anyone could go outside to round up a few extra men, a woman – who represented a decidedly secular party and whose outward appearance indicated that she wasn’t especially religiously observant – piped up.

“You don’t have enough for a minyan? How about those two guys over there?” she asked, and then called out to a couple of bareheaded young men in the corner. “Hey! They’re a little short over here. Would you be willing to make up the minyan?”

“Happily!” they replied, and they sounded like they meant it.

The Shminist later reported that he assumed that the two men’s sole contribution to the cause would be to stand off on the side in order to be technically counted for the minyan, but he misjudged them.

Not only did they wrap t-shirts around their heads as makeshift kippot, but they actually davened with everyone else.

And several hours later, when it was time for maariv, the minyan was again comprised of a beautiful mix of religious and secular Jews.

It was a moving lesson in achdut (unity) for the Shminist and his friends, and it proved that far away from the blaring headlines, Israelis think of themselves as one big, boisterous but loving family:

 ”כאיש אחד בלב אחד.“

“As one man, with one heart.”
(Rashi – Shmot 19:2)

Freshly Baked Goods Friday: French Coffee Cake Edition

{INSERT: pro forma – and patently insincere - apology about my prolonged absence}

As you may recall surely have forgotten by now, the [no longer] recent bat mitzvah report included the following picture:

For reasons presumably known to my mother (aka This Recipe’s Source), the cake on the right goes by the name “French Coffee Cake” --- although it’s neither French nor made with coffee. (Discuss amongst yourselves…)

I’m told that a certain Our Shiputzim reader/member of the extended Shiputzim clan refers to the same cake as “3-2-1 Cake,” because in its original form, the recipe called for 3 cups of flour, 2 cups of sugar, and 1 cup of shortening.

However, as is our habit here in TRLEOOB*, we’ve long since changed the recipe.

Thus, I felt that a name change was also in order.

But to my surprise, no one shared my feelings.

Indeed, in the requisite Shiputzim family vote on the subject, I was hopelessly outnumbered. Everyone else wanted to keep the original name.

This leads me to one of two conclusions:

1. Ours is a conservative household, where longstanding traditions are reverently upheld.
2. Ours is a frivolous household, where the meaningless and the irrelevant are irreverently mocked.

I’ll let you decide which statement is more accurate, but in the meantime, please remind me: what is this blog called again?

French Coffee Cake

Adapted from an old family recipe

Ingredients

• 4 eggs
• 2/3 cup canola oil
• 2 cups sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 3 tsp baking powder (i.e. one envelope, for my Israeli readers)
• 3 cups flour
• 1 cup mango juice

Topping

• 6 TBSP cocoa
• ½ cup sugar
• 2 tsp cinnamon

Directions

Separate eggs. Beat whites until stiff, and set aside.

Beat yolks, oil, and sugar together. Add vanilla and baking powder. Add flour alternating with juice, and mix well.

Gently fold the mixture into the egg whites, and then carefully pour some of the batter into a well-oiled tube pan. Sprinkle some of the topping over the batter, and then continue alternating batter and topping. Be sure to end with the topping.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45-60 minutes or until done.

Let the cake cool completely before removing it from the pan.

!בתאבון

!שבת שלום ומבורך

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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

The top 10 signs you’re voting in Israel

The Our Shiputzim Editorial Board proudly presents:

The Top 10 Signs It’s Election Day in Israel

10) A glorious, festive air hangs over the entire country.

9) Your son, the IDF soldier, voted on his base.

8) When the election official at your local polling station checked your family’s names on the official list, she noticed that one eligible voter was missing (see #9 above) and said with a smile, “You left someone at home!”

7) You made sure to read Jameel’s excellent elections guide before heading out to vote.

6) Perfect strangers greet you with a joyous “chag samei’ach!” as they pass you in the street.

5) You wonder again, for the umpteenth time, why more Israelis don’t seem to want to have Sundays as a weekly day-off?

4) Even the weather cooperates, as the winter storm of two weeks ago gives way to unseasonably warm temperatures.

3) You’re intensely aware that being eligible to vote in the State of Israel means that you’re blessed with a front row seat on Jewish history.

2) You notice that unlike in the States - where people often refer to voting as “fulfilling one’s civic duty” - here in Israel, people always talk about voting as an incredible privilege or right (i.e. zchut ha’hatzba’ah, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you), which isn’t to be taken lightly or for granted.

1) Although you’ve been living in Israel for many years now BA”H, you still get a thrill over dropping your ballot into the voting box.

May today’s elections herald besurot tovot, yeshu’ot v’nechamot (good tidings, salvation, and consolation) for Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Torat Yisrael.

Vote early, vote often

Here in Israel, we’re all busy gearing up for Election Day (i.e. Yom HaBechirot, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you).

Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. In fact, the period leading up to elections is always very tense and stressful.

I mean, not only are our phones ringing off the hook as various and sundry would-be MKs call us “personally” to beg for our votes, but our inboxes and Facebook newsfeeds are overflowing with election-related posts – both serious ones as well as  countless versions of the following, um, “prayer”:

רבונו של עולם! תן לי "כח להשפיע" על "עם שלם", להתפלל ב"נץ", לעשות את "העבודה" ב"מרץ", לפעול כדי ש"התנועה" תהיה תמיד "קדימה", ללמוד את ה"שס" ולזכור שעיקר ה"יהדות" היא "התורה". יהי רצון שיהיה בעמנו "איחוד לאומי" ו"ליכוד" של כל חלקי העם וש"ביתנו" יהיה "בית יהודי" אחד גדול, כי "יש עתיד" ו"עוצמה לישראל"!

And then there’s the small matter of deciding which party deserves our vote.

Indeed, many voters (including myself, although YZG and the Shiputzim family’s first-time voters have all made up their minds) continue to waver between ideological and strategic voting and probably won’t make a final decision until arriving at their local polling stations tomorrow IY”H.

But IMHO, the biggest challenge is trying to figure out how we’re going to cram nearly four years’ worth of Sunday activities into a single day…

May tomorrow’s elections bring besurot tovot, yeshu’ot v’nechamot (good tidings, salvation, and consolation) for Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Torat Yisrael.

Assorted blogbits

In lieu of a full-length post, here are several items of interest or note:

1) The following fascinating video tells the tragic story of the “Lamed-Heh” – the 35 brave Palmach fighters who set out to provide desperately-needed ammunition and supplies to Gush Etzion’s beleaguered defenders 65 years ago this week:

2) The latest Kosher Cooking Carnival is available here. Special thanks to Ester for including my apple cinnamon cupcake post.

3) Tis the season… for pomelos. If the list of search terms leading to this blog over the past few weeks is any indication, people around the world have apparently developed a sudden interest in learning how to eat a pomelo.

4) As was the case four years ago, YZG and I once again find ourselves deliberating between strategic and ideological voting. How about you?

5) Mazal tov to guest blogger Malke and her family on the birth of a grandson! May his parents be privileged to raise him to Torah, to chupah, and to maasim tovim!

!שבת שלום ומבורך

Top 10 signs your son is in the army

The Our Shiputzim Editorial Board proudly presents:

The Top 10 Signs That Your Son* Is an IDF Soldier

(*Or Daughter)

10) His speech is liberally peppered with acronyms (i.e. roshei teivot for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you).

9) Not only have you started to recognize some of those acronyms, but you even know what a handful of them mean.

8) You’ve considered adding a new skill to your LinkedIn profile: washing army uniforms.

7) You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no need to iron those uniforms.

6) Mathematicians may insist that the shortest route between any two given points is a straight line, but you’ve learned that in the army, traveling home from one’s base involves zigzagging across the country and changing buses at countless obscure junctions and intersections.

5) You’ve long since ceased to be surprised that the army functions in a seemingly-constant state of balagan (loosely, disorganization)…

4) Somehow, you’ve suddenly been transformed into the stereotypical Jewish mother (aka an imma Polaniyah – a Polish mother – in the local vernacular). Whenever you speak to your son, you find yourself asking, “But are you SURE you’re getting enough to eat?” (Although to be perfectly fair, a certain hesdernik of my acquaintance is actually eating better now in the army than he did when he was in his yeshiva. Of course, that’s not really saying much… :-))

3) Many of the country’s burning political issues have become far less academic and theoretical and far more personal and relevant. (More on this, perhaps, in a future post.)

2) You finally feel like a “real” Israeli.

1) Every time your son walks through the front door, you’re once again amazed and filled with tremendous gratitude to HaKadosh Baruch Hu that the tall, handsome (BA”H) soldier standing before you is the same tiny baby boy you held in your arms all those years ago.

May Hashem watch over and protect all our soldiers and keep them all safe and sound.

_____________

P.S. Looking for “the Israeli view of yesterday’s US elections?” Here’s my take:

”.על מי לנו להשען? על אבינו שבשמים”
“On Whom can we rely? On our Father in Heaven.” (BT Sotah 49a)

Dig, dig, dig, dig your shovel deep

Note: If you’re looking for an intelligent analysis of yesterday’s shakeup of Israel’s political landscape, you’ve come to the wrong place. (I suggest you check out Jameel’s list of winners and losers instead.) Because the only thing I have to say on the subject is that it’s quite disappointing. I mean, here in TRLEOOB*, we were really looking forward to having a day off… :-)

***

It was Monday, the second day of Rosh Chodesh Iyar, and I was busy patting myself on the back over a job well done.

You see, the Iyar Challenge was underway, and by all indications, it was going to be a huge success.

I had calculated the optimal time to do laundry during the week; each of the kids knew which shirt to wear each day; and I had even managed to convince a certain young man of my acquaintance not to wear a certain shirt from his collection…

And then… [cue: dramatic music] one of the Shiputzim daughters (henceforth, OOTSD) walked in the door.

She needed a few things for her school’s upcoming Yom HaZikaron/Yom HaAtzma’ut ceremony, she told me.

Still deep in the throes of congratulating myself, I wasn’t concerned.

“Bring it on!” I may even have said.

And so she did…

Her class was dramatizing Yoram Taharlev’s “Ein Kvar Derech Chazarah” (“No Way Back Anymore”):

The lyrics are available here.

OOTSD was supposed to dress up as one of the Bilu’im, and her costume had to include a checked shirt, a straw hat or a kova tembel, and a farming or work tool.

Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so confident anymore…

Because while we had no trouble finding a suitable shirt and hat, I had no idea how to approach the third item on the list.

After all, we’re not exactly the kind of family that just happens to have spare agricultural implements lying around.

Especially since not just ANY agricultural implement would do. It couldn’t be valuable, because OOTSD was taking it to school. It couldn’t be too heavy, because she was going to be dancing with it.

And, most importantly, it had to pass muster with OOTSD’s discriminating teenage sister…

But fortunately, YZG – aka He Who Successfully Built a Model of the Mizbei’ach in Just a Few Hours – once again stepped in and saved the day.

After grabbing a cardboard tube and some heavy duty aluminum foil, he produced this:

Amazingly, not only did the aforementioned teenage sister approve, but when OOTSD brought the shovel to school, her friends said that it was “magniv” (loosely, cool).

Which, by all accounts, is very high praise indeed…

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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

Soaking it all in

Warning: The following post may exceed the statute of limitations on post-Pesach wrap ups. Proceed at your own risk.

“I have a question which I suspect no one has ever asked the Rav before,” YZG began.

The Rav was skeptical. There isn’t much he hasn’t seen or heard.

“We’ll see,” he replied noncommittally but with a definite twinkle in his eye.

And so YZG explained.

For 14 years – i.e. since the last time Shvii Shel Pesach (the 7th day of Pesach) came out on a Friday {insert: requisite Torah Tidbits stats, which note that there won’t be such a long break for another 200 years or so} – we’d been planning that this year, we’d spend the last day of Pesach and Shabbat Parshat Shmini (aka Isru Chag) at our gebrochts-eating relatives.

You see, the Shiputzim daughters are all determined NOT to be one of those women who grow up not eating gebrochts and then refuse to serve it to their families - even if their husbands DO indulge in knaidlach, matzah brie, matzah farfel kugel, and so on.

But in order to avoid falling into this surprisingly common trap, the Shiputzim daughters need to taste the aforementioned soaked delicacies.

And so, for the sake of the Shiputzim daughters and their future husbands and kids (BA”H), we decided to go to our relatives for that Shabbat.

After all, when it comes to gebrochts, they’re the experts. In contrast, we’re mere amateurs, at best.

But a couple of weeks before Pesach, we suddenly realized that there might be a problem.

Because assuming that such a thing is possible, said relatives are even more fanatic about early Shabbat than we are.

Which meant that it would not yet be Tzait HaKochavim (loosely, nightfall) when we were going to be accepting Shabbat.

Was there any way, YZG asked, for us to have gebrochts at that Friday night meal?

The Rav smiled.

No, he certainly had NOT been asked that question before… :-)

However, be that as it may, he continued, we should wait until after Tzait to eat the gebrochts (although for this purpose, we could abide by a lenient opinion of Tzait).

Translation: We wouldn’t be able to have knaidlach with our soup, but if we stalled and sang a few extra zemirot, we could easily partake of the matzah farfel kugel that was set to appear during the main course.

For the record, our gracious hostess offered to switch the courses and serve the soup course AFTER the main course - thus allowing us to have the knaidlach, albeit at the price of the matzah farfel kugel.

And so, as we are wont to do, the Shiputzim family took a vote.

We all agreed that the picky eaters among us (read: those who wouldn’t commit to eat both the knaidlach AND the kugel) had no say in the matter. In addition, the voting commissioner (that would be me) ruled that YZG couldn’t vote, because it’s his fault that we don’t eat gebrochts… :-)

With only a handful of eligible voters remaining, the decision was unanimous. Everyone opted for the kugel. (Their reasoning was that they’d all had knaidlach before – although admittedly not up to our hostess’s standards – but no one makes matzah farfel kugel when it isn’t Pesach. No, not even during Gebrochts Week…)

And, so, to make a long, boring story even longer and more boring, we had gebrochts, and all was right with the world.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering why we wasted our time on gebrochts when we could’ve been eating kitniyot </reason #2119 for making aliyah>, wonder no more.

Because on that Shabbat afternoon, we had some Doritos, and all would’ve been even more right with the world. Except that surprisingly, unlike dishes containing soaked matzah, salty corn-based snacks just don’t seem to lend themselves to long-winded, drawn-out posts…

Did you eat gebrochts and/or kitniyot on Shabbat Parshat Shmini/Isru Chag?

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P.S. Speaking of Pesach, check out the latest Kosher Cooking Carnival here. Special thanks to Jennifer in MamaLand for including my non-gebrochts choco-nut bars.

Bobi a”h

Today marks the yahrzeit of my dear grandmother z”l, a Holocaust survivor originally from Kovno, Lithuania.

As the oldest grandchild, I was privileged to enjoy a unique and close relationship with her, and from the time I was a baby and throughout high school, college, and beyond, her house was always my second home.

In fact, Bobi a”h (we spelled it “Bobi” – even though we pronounced it “Bubby”) played a major role in every stage of my life, and thus, there’s so much I could write about her.

I could tell you that she was the world’s best cook (as I’ve noted elsewhere on this blog); how she would sew gorgeous clothes for me; and how she taught me to drive.

I could describe our countless shopping expeditions; how she danced at our wedding; how she gave me cooking tips when I was a young bride; and – most of all - how she was always available to talk, to listen and to encourage.

But for now, I’ll suffice with three things that come to mind whenever I think about Bobi z”l.

1) First, I recall her love for Israel.

She came from a religious-Zionist (aka “Mizrachi”, as it was called in those days) family, and as a girl, she attended a Hebrew-language gymnasiah. (Whenever she saw her Israeli grandchildren and great-children doing their homework, she would say with a smile, “I also studied math in Hebrew!”)

After the war, she yearned to move to Eretz Yisrael. But since she was pregnant, my Zaidy a”h felt that it would be too dangerous for her to sail on a Ha’apalah ship and risk being detained by the British in Cyprus.

And in every US election, she would always make sure to vote for the candidate who was "good for Israel."

2) Second, I remember how much she treasured her beloved family.

Her kibbud em (honor for her mother) was legendary. Her marriage was a true partnership and a model of shalom bayit.

And, as far as she was concerned, nobody was more amazing, more wonderful or more perfect than any of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. No matter what we all did, she was convinced that there was no one better.

Her greatest joy was having any of us come for a visit, and she would spend weeks in advance cooking, baking, and planning elaborate menus for us.

3) The third thing about Bobi  a”h that always stays with me is her quiet, inner fortitude.

It was this strength that enabled her to survive the war’s horrors - young and on her own.

It was this strength that allowed her to leave her mother (after they had finally been reunited at the war’s end) and move with my Zaidy a”h to the US - a strange country, with a foreign culture and a foreign language.

It was this strength that transformed her – within an astonishingly short period of time - from a right-off-the-boat new immigrant to someone who would read English books for pleasure; who was the best-dressed woman wherever she went; and who knew all the latest American styles and fashions.

And yet, at the same time, it was due to this strength that when it came to important values and principles, she refused to compromise.

No matter that the “American” relatives insisted that public school was the “correct” choice. Bobi’s kids went to the local Jewish day school and to yeshivot, and Bobi and Zaidy were pillars of their Young Israel community.

And finally, it was this inner fortitude and determination that helped her do what she needed to do as a relatively young widow – such as going out to work (a difficult step for someone of her generation) and moving twice to a new state.

It was therefore an incredible honor, privilege, and comfort that a mere two weeks after Bobi a”h passed away, I gave birth to her oldest namesake yblt”a.

May all our children continue to emulate and learn from their special great-grandmother z”l.

.יהי זכרה ברוך

_________

*This post was based on a speech I gave in honor of Bobi’s Shloshim.

Too clever for our own good?

As far as I can recall, I was never before this undecided so close to an election. In fact, YZG and I didn’t make a final decision until right before we headed to the polling station this morning, and many of our friends and relatives seemed to be in the same boat.

In the end, YZG and I decided to be oh-so-clever and deliberately split our votes: one of us voted strategically, and the other voted ideologically*.

Hopefully, we won’t come to regret our decision.

May these elections bring besurot tovot, yeshu’ot, and nechamot (good tidings, salvation, and consolation) for Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Torat Yisrael.

______________

* In case you’re wondering who did the dirty work, let me state for the record that YZG – ever the gentleman – offered to do the strategic voting.

Who ever said that chivalry is dead?

Sunday on Tuesday

Shavua tov, Our Shiputzim fans!

In the comment section to the previous post, Jameel provided yet another excellent reason for making aliyah: vacation on Election Day.

Yes, that’s right. Here in Israel, Election Day is a national holiday.

And – most significantly - unlike every other Israeli national holiday, Election Day has no specific religious component.(Other than perhaps praying that one’s party of choice does well, of course…)

Thus, like most Western olim, we here in TRLEOOB (that’s The Real Life Equivalent Of Our Blog, for the newcomers amongst you) like to refer to Election Day as “a Sunday”. In other words, a day where one has absolutely no obligations*.

As some of you may recall, the previous elections (or was it two times ago?) came out a few weeks before Pesach, and Election Day that year was popularly known as “National Pesach Cleaning Day”.

But this coming Tuesday הבעל”ט, we don’t even have to worry about Pesach cleaning. (I do realize that if you’re like certain long-time Our Shiputzim readers who started their Pesach cleaning on Chanukah, YMMV…)

And so, after we stroll over to our local polling station and perform our civic duty, we’ll IY”H have the rest of the day to do whatever we want.

Including doing absolutely nothing…

________

* Admittedly, this doesn’t really apply to freelancers like myself, but at least, we don’t have to worry about getting the kids out in the morning, etc.

Aliyah memories: “But in America…”

NOTE: Although I try to keep this blog politics-free, I couldn’t let Election Day in the States go by completely unacknowledged, and so hence a post with the word “America” in the title.

Even before s/he arrives in Israel, every new oleh is strictly cautioned against committing that most dreaded of cultural faux pas - using the phrase, “But in America, they do X.”

Israelis hate this phrase, the oleh is told; they find it to be very offensive. It makes you sound stuck-up and superior, the oleh is clearly enjoined. If you attempt to use it, the oleh is warned, Israelis will respond by saying, “Then go back to America!”

Like any good oleh, I got the message. From day one, I was determined to refrain from [vocally] comparing the Israeli way of doing things with the American way. I had memorized the party line: “The two cultures are different; one is not better than the other.”

And, indeed, most of the time, I obeyed this sacrosanct unwritten law.

But, את חטאי אני מזכיר היום – true confession time: There was one time when I deliberately and intentionally used this phrase.

::Hangs head in shame::

In a moment of weakness and against my better judgment, I had let the nurse at Tipat Chalav (the well-baby clinic) convince me to take one of the kids to a dietitian. The nurse felt that TBIQ (the baby in question) wasn’t gaining enough weight and that the dietitian would give me some useful suggestions.

As soon as I met the dietitian, however, I was sorry that I had listened to the nurse. First of all, the dietitian was herself very, very thin – too thin, it seemed to me, to be talking about fattening babies up. Second (and most significantly), she was completely clueless about nursing and wanted me to cut back. And finally, she kept suggesting the most inane ideas.

For example, she insisted that I put unprocessed tehina paste into TBIQ’s vegetables to add calories. (Result: TBIQ stopped eating vegetables.) Also, she wanted me to melt butter into TBIQ’s baby cereal. (Result: None, because I ignored this suggestion.)

But the final straw came when she told me to feed TBIQ a certain type of high-calorie artificially-flavored and -sweetened pudding instead of yogurt. She told me that the pudding came in two flavors: banana and strawberry.

By that point, I couldn’t take any more of her ridiculous suggestions, and so I lightly replied, “Oh? Really? Because don’t doctors in America recommend that babies under 12 months not be given strawberries, because of potential allergies?”

She obviously had no idea what I was talking about, because she just mumbled an incoherent response. The appointment ended soon after that, and she didn’t even try to convince me to return for a follow-up appointment.

And I went home and felt incredibly guilty that I had knowingly and willfully transgressed the Oleh Code of Conduct…

Hat tip: Leora, who explained the difference between dietitians and nutritionists.