Back-to-school boba

My courage was betrayed the instant that those bobas passed through my tight lips.

On Sept. 1, the first day of school for millions of Israeli children, I said goodbye to my two remaining high schoolers, wishing them luck as I went to meet a friend for a coffee date before work. I drove through the neighborhood, passing kids in white shirts waiting at bus stops alongside their relieved parents. My heart grew big as I thought of crisp notebooks and freshly sharpened pencils, symbolic of the new chapters that our kids will begin writing today. Sept. 1 is a day of wide-eyed anticipation and tight-lipped courage.

In an attempt to capture the unique spirit of this day, upon arriving at the coffee shop, I dug deep into the wells of my own courage and boldly decided to order something new off the menu. They were advertising boba drinks, which I had never tried before.

The topic of boba had come up in a few conversations over the summer. Boba is a highly divisive food that people either love, hate, or love to hate. My friend loves it — the texture provides a flavorful chew to her fruity drinks. My husband and kids are not fans. They swear it is the devil disguised as something edible and they warned me that the bobas might sneak up through my straw and try to kill me.

I appreciated their concern for my wellbeing, as I’m always cautioning my kids. I want to protect them from making mistakes — to spare them unnecessary pain, embarrassment.

I often tell them that they should bring a sweatshirt because it’s colder than they think out there. I implore them never to be photographed wearing socks with sandals, because, though this has bewilderingly been an acceptable fad in this country for decades, it is bound to end sometime, and they will one day be haunted by this fashion faux pas. I beg them not to wait
until the last minute to start their summer math packet, because math is the worst, and it will make them cry harder in
August than it would’ve in June. No one knows why. Probably something to do with how the y-axis relates to atmospheric
pressure.

I tell them these things even though I know they won’t listen. My living room is littered with sweatshirts left behind and math packets that lie blank as September inches closer.

But that’s OK, because I have come to understand that sometimes kids have to make their own mistakes. The lessons I learned through my poor fashion choices and math procrastination cannot be passed down from generation to generation like a recipe for chocolate chip cookies. My kids have to earn their stripes and their scars the hard way, by making their own decisions, good, bad and y-axis related.

And as hard as it may be to watch them make mistakes in real time, my role is not to save them, it is simply to stand back and support them as they make their way in the world — to encourage good decision making and, when that fails, to refrain from saying I told them so. Even when I totally told them so.

Which leads me back to the boba. Boba is made up of something called tapioca pearls, which sound awesome. I like pearls. And I like tapioca, which, until now, I had only experienced in pudding form. So I threw caution to the atmospheric pressure, and I ordered a boba.

My courage was betrayed the instant that those bobas passed through my tight lips. It turns out that the magical sounding tapioca pearls are merely a misnomer for giant squishy death bubbles that try to choke you while you’re drinking.

I had been a fool not to heed the warnings of my loved ones. I confessed on the family WhatsApp: “I tried boba. It was a terrible mistake.”

I braced myself for the inevitable I told you so. But it didn’t come.

“Did you choke??” they asked.

“Multiple times,” I replied.

“So glad you survived!” they said.

I guess they have come to understand that sometimes moms need to make their own mistakes.

On Sept. 1, and every day before and after, we send up a multitude of prayers that we have given our kids the tools that they need to be good, successful humans. We urge them to be kind to the new kid, to write down their homework, to have fun, and to pay attention. And sometimes they do. But often they don’t. Because sometimes we want to eat cookies from our no-fail, tried-and-true recipe. But on occasion, we want boba; we want to be brave and bold, to try new things, even when it makes our wide eyes water, as we cough and sputter, prompting our coffee date to wonder if we are making good choices.

So as the new year approaches, I urge you all to get out there, be courageous and daring. Bake cookies and eat pudding! Try the boba, if you must. I promise not to say I told you so. Even though I totally told you so. PJC

Kally Rubin-Kislowicz grew up in Pittsburgh, and made aliyah from Cleveland to Efrat in 2016. This article first appeared on The Times of Israel.