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Caily's World, New York, NY (2026)

02/15/2026

I used to say that the day Caila recognized she was different would be the saddest day of my life.

That day came in her teenage years. Those years no woman wants to relive, ages 14 to 17. At first, she was happy. Confident. She even saw herself as better than everyone. She had grown up hearing she was cute, a superstar, adored.

Then reality set in.

She realized she was different.
And society magnified those differences.

Being high functioning made it even harder. She understood exactly what was happening. She knew that a high five was not enough. She wanted more. We wanted more.

We have always wanted more for her.
That is why we fought for inclusion.

And now the criticism has shifted.

Before it was, “Jodi, you’ve done amazing things with Caila.”
Now it is, “Well maybe you shouldn’t have pushed her so much.”

So let me ask this.

How many neurotypical teenagers struggle, regardless of parenting style, education, opportunity, or privilege? We know about the lost teens across society, across religious communities, across socioeconomic lines.

When a neurotypical teen struggles, it is life.
When my child struggles, it becomes my fault.

Somehow the narrative changed from “Jodi, you’re amazing” to “perhaps Jodi, you did wrong by your child.”

I have had to walk myself back from that cliff many, many times. Society is very good at making mothers feel responsible for outcomes they cannot fully control. And my inner voice has had to say, again and again, reframe.

Perhaps, like any parent, we can give our children the best opportunities, the most love, and raise them consistently according to our values. And still, we cannot control every outcome.

As a Type A mother, as an entrepreneur, as an advocate, as someone who likes to control outcomes in every area of my life, that is a very hard truth to swallow.

But maybe that is the lesson for all of us.

Love fiercely.
Advocate relentlessly.
Hold values tightly.

And release the illusion that perfection is possible.

My daughter deserves more than empathy.
Our children deserve more.

02/12/2026

I just read Moment Magazine’s list of the “50 Jewish Innovators of the Past 50 Years.”

It is an impressive lineup. Visionaries. Thinkers. Builders. Cultural and communal architects who shaped modern Jewish life.

And yet, I noticed something.

Not one leader was highlighted for advancing Jewish disability inclusion.

In 2026, that absence is not small.

Jewish innovation has transformed technology, philanthropy, education, media, and geopolitics. But one of the most profound revolutions inside Jewish communal life over the past few decades has been the growing insistence that people with disabilities belong fully in our schools, synagogues, camps, workplaces, and leadership.

That shift did not happen accidentally. It happened because leaders pushed. Parents advocated. Foundations invested. Organizations built infrastructure where none existed.

People like Jay and Shira Ruderman, who elevated disability inclusion onto the global Jewish agenda through the Ruderman Family Foundation.

The groundbreaking work of the Na Laga’at Theater in Israel, founded in 2002 by Adina Tal and Eran Gur. It is first ensemble of its kind in the world whose actors are all deafblind (double disability). The organization established a unique cultural center at the Levantbondet House in the Port of Jaffa in Tel Aviv. The center is a platform for creative arts, which promotes equal and open dialogue and leads to social change built on the belief in the human spirit and its ability to reach out and make a change.

Reel Abilities, founded by Anita Altman and Isaac Zablocki, now the largest disability film festival in the United States, changing how disability is represented in Jewish and broader society.

And yes, Kalman Samuels, whose founding of Shalva in Israel redefined what dignity, excellence, and belonging look like for families raising children with disabilities.

Innovation is not only about apps and ideas.

It is about expanding who is seen.

It is about moving from charity to belonging.

It is about shifting a communal mindset from accommodation to inclusion.

As someone parenting a child with special needs, and building communities across continents, I know this firsthand. Inclusion is not a side issue. It is not a niche. It is a moral test of our leadership.

If we are celebrating 50 years of Jewish innovation, then disability inclusion belongs in that story.

Because the chutzpah of real inclusion is innovation.

And the next 50 years will demand even more of it.

https://momentmag.com/50-jewish-innovators/

Jodi's Voice שירה רודרמן - Shira Ruderman Jay Ruderman ReelAbilities Film Festival: New York Shalva National Center Jewish Disability Awareness, Acceptance and Inclusion - JDAIM

02/11/2026

I love traveling follow my adventures here….

02/11/2026

Just imagine …..

02/08/2026

Last week, Caila’s school held a concert for the parents.
A beautiful evening of dance and acting, with girls who are both special needs and typical, sharing one stage, one purpose.

No labels. No separation. Just talent, effort, courage, and joy.

It was deeply moving to watch inclusion not talked about, but lived.
This is what it looks like when we get it right.

I wish we saw more of this in the world.

02/08/2026

Tragedy in Australia.

A story that resonates with parents fighting for disabled children in systems that overwhelm the most loving parents.

Two parents chose to die with their children and their pets after they felt the system had turned its back on them.

It is the kind of line that lands hard and stays with you. Not just a headline, but the sound of something human breaking all at once.
This happened in Mosman Park, a quiet suburb near Perth. Clean streets. Neat houses. Lawns trimmed and identical. The sort of place where life looks steady from the outside, where trouble is supposed to be rare.
Behind one closed door, hope ran out.

Jarrod Clune was fifty. Maiwenna Goasdoue was forty nine. They had spent years fighting a battle most people never see. Their sons, Leon, sixteen, and Otis, fourteen, lived with severe autism and needed constant care, day and night. Every hour demanded attention. Every task took strength. There were no real breaks. No relief.
The family’s three pets stayed close too, small sources of comfort in a home stretched thin but still holding together.

Before they died, Jarrod and Maiwenna taped a note to the front door.
Do not enter. Call the police.

It was calm. Direct. Not the message of a rash moment. It read like something decided after long nights and longer thoughts.

Inside, there were no signs of a struggle. No chaos. No violence. Investigators later found a second letter. It laid everything out with painful clarity. Their reasons. Their planning. Even instructions about finances and what should happen next.

A careful goodbye.

That is what makes it so devastating. It was not confusion. It was resolve.

As the hours passed, people who knew the family began to talk. Caregivers. Friends. Advocates. They described years of asking for help and being turned away. Funding from Australia’s disability support system had been reduced or denied. The explanations sounded clinical and cold.

The boys were too difficult.
Too complex.
Too expensive.
Too much.
Too much for a system that was built to protect families like theirs.

What remains now is more than a tragic story. It is a picture of exhaustion. Two parents who kept pushing until there was nothing left to give. Two people who felt they had reached the end of every available road.
Four lives, and three animals, became the cost of that failure.
And this is not only about one town in Australia. It is about any place where people quietly drown while paperwork piles up. Any place where asking for help turns into begging, and begging turns into silence.

When support systems break down, it is not policy that suffers first.
It is families.

Sometimes, it is hope itself.

02/06/2026

I joined the trend

02/03/2026

Dog therapy is not a bonus. It’s a bridge.

For teens like Caila, connection does not always start with words. It starts with presence, trust, and a calm nervous system. Dogs create that space naturally. No judgment. No pressure. Just regulation, joy, and belonging.

This is what inclusion looks like when it’s done right.
Meeting kids where they are, and helping them grow forward.

Caila’s world deserves more of this.

Jodi's Voice

02/01/2026

Yachad teens launching inclusive programs is a true game changer.

I have always struggled with separate programs that turn our kids into a kindness project, or isolate them from the broader community. Inclusion should be real, not symbolic.

That said, I have sent Caila in the past because she simply lacked access to peer social opportunities. This is a common reality for teens with special needs. They often do not fit neatly into the typical world and end up segregated.

This initiative changes that.

It creates natural, authentic spaces where teens of all abilities engage, belong, and build genuine friendships.

That is real inclusion.

Kudos to Yachad

01/30/2026

Me contemplating the crazy reality I exist in….

Israelis have a kind of resilience that is hard to explain unless you live it.

Imagine this in your country.
I have a daughter with special needs. This week she is going away for a Sabbath program with an organized group that includes both regular and special needs kids.

In most countries, an impending threat of war would cancel everything.
A tyrant openly calling for your annihilation.
Talk of escalation with Iran.
Any other place would shut it all down.

Not Israel.

Here, we have lived through this before. And we know we will live through more. Since 1948, this has been our reality. Wars. Terror. Threats. And yet, life continues.

Parents were informed. Yes, there is a possibility of war. Yes, contingency plans are in place. And still, the program is going ahead.

Because Jewish life does not pause for hate.

Having lived in New York, Sydney, Johannesburg, Auckland, and London, I know this would not be the reality anywhere else. In Israel, resilience is not a slogan. It is muscle memory.

We raise our children. We educate them. We care for the most vulnerable. We celebrate Shabbat. We plan for tomorrow.

Not because we are naive.
But because we refuse to be defeated.

That is Israeli resilience.

01/21/2026

Hanging with my sister from another mister

Caily's World

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