Sarah Tuttle-Singer
A Mermaid in Jerusalem

And this is why I know everything will be awesome

It started with a whine, as it often does, on a hot day in the car on the way to Kibbutz Gezer:

“Moooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, he’s LOOKING at me.”

“No I’m not! I’m looking at the booger on your nose.”

“Moooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, do I have a booger on my nose?”

“No, you don’t, Sweet Girl, and Dude, it isn’t kind to tease your sister.”

“YOU have a booger on YOUR nose,” she countered.





Now, there are two kinds of mothers in this world:

One kind of mother who would turn around (with a patient smile), and dig deep to a place of understanding, compassion, and quiet strength. This kind of mother would help her children reach some sort of resolution half-way in the middle. This kind of mother helps her kids organize their toys in neat little boxes, bakes cookies from scratch, and does laundry before there’s ANOTHER pile of dirty clothes next to the hamper.

And then there’s the other mother who turns up the radio.

(Hi! I can’t hear youuuuuuuuuuuu!!!)

And then this song came on:

“I know everything will be OK…. I know everything will be awesome…”
It’s a great song – You gotta listen. Even if you don’t speak Hebrew (Hell, I only speak Hebrew when I’m really really angry, or after a shot or three of whiskey).

You’ll like it.

I like it.

“I know everything will be OK…… I know everything will be awesome aaahhhhhhhhhh”

And the song got bigger as it filled the car because my kids were singing, too.

“I know everything will be OK…. I know everything will be awesome. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

And I looked back, and they were holding hands.

“This, we can agree on. And we’ve decided we both have boogers.”

About the Author
Sarah Tuttle-Singer is the author of Jerusalem Drawn and Quartered and the New Media Editor at Times of Israel. She was raised in Venice Beach, California on Yiddish lullabies and Civil Rights anthems, and she now lives in Jerusalem with her 3 kids where she climbs roofs, explores cisterns, opens secret doors, talks to strangers, and writes stories about people — especially taxi drivers. Sarah also speaks before audiences left, right, and center through the Jewish Speakers Bureau, asking them to wrestle with important questions while celebrating their willingness to do so. She loves whisky and tacos and chocolate chip cookies and old maps and foreign coins and discovering new ideas from different perspectives. Sarah is a work in progress.