Wrapping up and lighting up

When I became a Bat Mitzvah (a week after my college graduation--figure that one out), I bought myself a tallis to commemorate.  It was pink and black silk with silver thread woven into the atara, and came with a matching tallis bag and kippa.  I still have it.  I was never sure what to do with it.  Cut off the tzitzit and atara and turn it into a headwrap?  Keep it as a relic?  Donate it?  To whom?  No boy would be caught dead in a pink tallis, and we certainly wouldn't want to give it to a girl--since of course, any girl who wants to wear a tallis is some evil feminist with either an agenda or a score to settle.  One morning, I decided on a lark that I would wear it again while davening at home.  (The Things were not there to witness my transgression.)  Before I even got to Shema, I took it off.  Somehow, after all those years of not wearing it, it just felt wrong somehow.
I think about my pink tallis, sitting on a shelf in my closet, now that the explosion is starting to settle down.  The explosion of course is the Orthodox yeshiva SAR permitting two girls to wear tefillin during in-school Shacharit.  I can't say that I've ever had the experience of wearing them, but I can sort of relate.
The halacha is very clear.  Women are exempt from time-bound positive mitzvot.  This includes things like tefillin, since they are to be worn during Shacharit.  This also includes davening with a minyan, hearing the megillah and the shofar, sitting in a sukkah, hearing Parshat Zachor--wait a minute!
Even in uber-frum Boro Park, plenty of women rush to shul for Zachor.  Some shuls even have later readings which are packed with women.  Same with megillah leinings.  As for shofar--even homebound women get to hear it, thanks to wandering shofar-blowers.  And I've never been ordered away from a sukkah.
Moreover, if that's the benchmark, why are women obligated to light Shabbos candles?  That's one of the main mitzvot for women.  However, since the lighting is from the commandments of "keep Shabbos" and "remember Shabbos," aren't those both positive?  And it's certainly timebound.  I can't, for example, decide to keep Shabbos on any day of the week I feel like.  And, as any balabuste can tell you, the minute is set in stone.  Miss the time, and you're mechalel Shabbos.  Bad Jew!
Frequently, I hear appeals to emotion like "most women don't really care about wearing tefillin" or "you women don't know how good you have it, not having to get up early" or "my wife would rather not wear tefillin, and doesn't understand why anyone would."  That's nice.  Unfortunately, these sentiments have no place in a discussion about halacha.  Either it's allowed or it's not.  And if women can sit in a sukkah or hear Zachor, and have to play "Beat the Clock" every Friday for the rest of their lives, then apparently the time-bound rule is a little fuzzier than we thought.

Siddurim and tefillos

Our mornings start with davening, and of course, we distribute siddurim.
Each of us has a siddur, ranging from the smallest (mine) to the biggest (Thing 2).  All three are from Artscroll, and each is for the appropriate level.  Mine is a battered, blue, pocket-size Artscroll Korban Minchah siddur with English and Hebrew.  Builder bought me some nameplates for my books, so my Hebrew name is on the cover.  Thing 1's siddur, less than a year old, is already staring to show some dog-earing where she flips the pages absently while davening.  It is the standard-size Artscroll Chaim Shlomo Chinuch Siddur, all Hebrew, and Nusach Sefard.  Thing 2 makes do with the picture-book siddur that Artscroll designed for children.  This is easily not my favorite.  Not only is it nusach Ashkenaz only, but it's missing some of the tefillos we've incorporated, such as Hallel (on Rosh Chodesh), Yotzer Ohr (and would it have been so hard to add one line to the Barchu page), and Tehillim perek 150 (which is shorter and a lot livelier than Ashrei, which they did include.  Nothing against Ashrei--I committed it to memory years ago and won Builder's heart that way--but 22 verses is a lot for a little kid.)  However, since Thing 2 is only on the cusp of learning nekudos, it really doesn't matter that I've had to improvise so much so that she has a page.  
My rule about davening is that we add, but don't subtract.  In other words, if the Things learn a tefillah in camp, davening group or elsewhere, we add it into our morning davening.  However, when Thing 1 told me that her camp skipped certain tefillos that I had made routine, I said.  "That's nice.  You're home now.  No more skipping."  As of now, our morning tefillos consist of the following:
Modeh Ani
Reshis Chochma
Torah Tziva Lanu Moshe
Ma Tovu
Adon Olam
Yigdal
Netilas Yadayim/Asher Yatzar
Bircas haTorah (but we skip the readings from the Mishna and the Talmud)
Bircas haShachar (first 14)
Tehillim perek 150
Barchu/Yotzer Ohr (Builder said it's OK to say this without a minyan, since it's for chinuch purposes.)
Shema/V'ahvta
First two brachos of Shemonah Esrei (eventually we'll add the third)
Aleinu, first half
Ani Maamim number 12 (not my idea, Thing 1 imported it from summer camp two years ago.)

When ceremonies backfire

Last night, Builder and I went to my nephew's pidyon haben.  (As in, my nephew was the baby's father.  It's about the only time that it registers that Builder is older than me.)
As my nephew redeemed his new son from his uncle (who is a Kohen), I had to wonder--what would the Kohen do if the father said, "You know, I'm not really ready for fatherhood, and taking care of kids is more than my wife and I can handle right now.  You take the kid, and I'll keep the coins."
Now, I've only seen about three of these in my life, because they're extremely rare.  However, this is a serious ceremony that means something!  Parents are actually asked if they want to give their firstborn to the priesthood!  There is a chance that a parent my take the Kohen up on his offer!
It's like the chalitza ceremony.  A few years ago, I saw a TV movie called Loving Leah.  It was about a man whose brother became a BT, married a frum girl, and died young and childless.  The secular brother had to show up for chalitza.  However, he felt guilty about cutting off his brother for so many years, that he ended up marrying his sister-in-law.  Weird premise for a movie, but it proves my point.  These ceremonies actually mean something.  I'm sure that at some point there were parents who gave up their children to the priesthood, either out of poverty or some kind of "safe haven" because they were overwhelmed.  Like dumping newborns off at the firehouse.  A little something to think about at the next pidyon haben.