“Hey Mom, I’ve got shvushim!” my oldest son said to me recently one day.
“Huh?” You’ve got what? I thought, vaguely wondering if it was something communicable…
“Shvushim,” he repeated, as if he were saying a word I could ever hope to say without immediately giving away my immigrant status. “Shavua yeshiva” he added, ever exasperated with my lack of Israeli with-it-ness. Just when I thought I knew it all, my life in Israel has thrown me a ‘new immigrant moment.’ On further assessment it would become clear that this ‘moment’ would actually last a couple of years…
“Aha!” I said as if it were all clear to me now. Shavua yeshiva…Yeshiva week? Nah, that’s Miami in January. Nope, still no clue… “Honey, what exactly is – er – shvus…shvushim and does this require any action on my part?” Busted. Can you fault me if my favorite type of parenting for teens is the parenting that takes place on auto-pilot?
“Not really, Mom.” (Phew!) “In twelfth grade the schools give weeks off here and there for the guys to go check out pre-army yeshivas and programs for next year.”
Pre-army…am I ready for this? Is one ever? “And they call this svush…er…shvusim…uh…?”
“Shvushim! Ah, don’t bother trying to say it, Mom…” he said with a smile.
And so it happens. Bringing a family to Israel is like making Aliyah as many times over as the members of your family number. All the more so if you are the mother, not that I’m sexist. (Alright, maybe I am a bit, but I digress). All of the challenges and struggles, learning a new language, navigating the Israeli school system, learning the Israeli healthcare system by experience – hopefully not too much, new foods, a new culture, new expectations, social challenges – all this is experienced by the new Oleh mother multiplied by the number of children in the family plus the spouse. That’s a lot challenges! Luckily we women are up to the challenge.
Like any challenge, success is so sweetly rewarding. And like any really challenging challenge, success only brings you to the next challenge. So we keep on breaking our teeth at those parent-teacher conferences to advocate for our immigrant children. And we try to loosen up from our sheltered, protected, Old Country lifestyle so that our children will more resemble their Sabra neighbors rather than younger versions of ourselves (that’s a tough one…) We try to ‘get’ things that Israelis do so we can be there for our kids, but often find that we must have been sprayed with Israeli-proofing before we arrived here because some things we just don’t get…
And then, one day, it happens. It may take a year or two, or it may take a decade. But suddenly, somehow, our kids get it. And we still don’t. It is quite transformative, really. It is then that we know why we did it all. The challenges, the struggles; after all, what was the goal if not our children? We make such herculean efforts. We feel like we are on a treadmill; no matter how far we think we’ve gone, we look around and we’re in the same place. Yet still we keep on. And then that day comes.
I moved to Israel thinking I’d ‘become’ Israeli. I couldn’t have been more wrong. My brain, at 33, was just too old to make such a huge cultural leap. But our children were not too old. They were going to be fluent in Hebrew by Chanukah, indistinguishable from their peers by Pesach. Uh, no. That, too, was a fantasy, created by someone who clearly did not make Aliyah with kids. As each successive Chanukah would come and go, and my pathetic academic Hebrew was still the best in the house, I started to wonder if my kids would ever surpass me. Slowly, slowly they crept up on me. Until with a whoosh! (or, should I say, a shvu”sh?) they left me in the dust. I may not have been ready. When are we ready? But I sure am happy – and proud – to take a seat in the stands and watch my Israeli children take off.
Laura Ben-David is the author of numerous articles and the book, MOVING UP: An Aliyah Journal, a memoir of her move to Israel. She has done public speaking about Israel and Aliyah all over the United States and Israel. Contact her at laura@aliyahbook.com or follow her tweets at http://www.twitter.com/laurabendavd 
As an oleh that has been living here my whole life, articles like this one reminds me how much i take Aliyah fro granted
Kol Hakavod Laura
Thanks Akiva. I think especially of people outside of Israel when I write my articles. Thrilled to see they are relevant and appreciated by those ‘on the inside’ ~LBD
“Pre-army…am I ready for this? Is one ever?” No, of course not. But you have the perfect attitude: it’s all about getting a good seat in the stands, so we can be there to applaud when THEY get it, when they become fully acclimated to themselves in this new world. There is nothing sweeter!
Spoken like the true role model that you are
Oh, Laura, you really captured the oleh experience. And what a great photo. The countdown has begun…
My son began his army service when I had been here 25 years minus just under a week. A week later, for the first time, I suddenly understood all kinds of things about Israelis that I couldn’t begin to fathom for the previous 25 years. An up-close encounter with the IDF, even vicariously through your child, pulls back the curtain and unveils the mystery. You suddenly understand why Israelis are so Israeli.
Hold on tight. The ride’s just beginning. Chizku ve’imtzu!
Raizi
Great post!
And to add to the confusion, shvushim – in spite of their name – don’t really last for a whole week…
Thank you Israeli family. There are 100′s of articles about living the Israel experience, however none as passionately and poetically as yours. – Dennis, Atlanta
Wow, thanks Dennis! Really appreciate your words. ~~Laura
My husband and I just made Aliya this past January and sent our youngest off to the army serving in tzanchanim in March. Our klita consisted of saying goodbye at the bakum, traveling down south on parents visiting day and spending a week running to the outskirts of an air force base with all the other parents to watch him and his buddies jump out of an airplane. We feel like our klita has been on fast forward, learning so much about Israeli life from the inside, it’s a great feeling!
Wow, what a whirlwind! You’re way ahead of me, Chana. Thanks so much for writing. May your klita continue in a smooth and easy fashion and may Hashem keep your son and all of our chayalim safe!
Best wishes,
Laura
Great post, Laura-
You sure hit this one spot on (in more ways than five)!!
thanks so much Shimona! ~Laura
As always Laura, you managed to describe our experiences sooo well.As far as having sons in the army goes…as you said, “ready or not here it comes.” Being the mother of soldiers (and getting involved in army slang and culture) is without doubt one of those experiences which makes you into an Israeli.
I can hear your son being exasperated with you through your words and it puts a smile on my face. Our children grow up so fast that before we know it, they are more mature than us!
Great story as usual, you are such a good writer!
regards
Eva
Awesome. So how’s your Hebrew now? I made aliyah at 31 so we should compare notes. : )
Yeah, uh, not so good. When people call me and say ‘at medaberet ivrit?’ I say, ‘ken’ and then brace myself… I need the Hebrew pill
Amazing how good it feels to be ‘left in the dust’ by our kids .. and somehow, they still seem to like us!
Keep up the great work Laura!
Casriel
I moved here at 18 but the Israel-proofing spray never does wash off completely. Definitely agree with your take that it’s all for our kids so that at least they’ll fit in–more or less. We’re still at the “being an advocate in parent-teacher meetings” phase. It’s great to hear more about what lies ahead, though I doubt anything can really prepare us for the army phase.
Laura, if I can do this Israeli soldier’s mom stuff from the US, you can surely do it from Israel! (I could never get all those Hebrew military terms and acronyms straight, though, good luck with that!)