dreaming

OMG what is that? My baby has been napping for the past hour and the older kids were entertaining themselves (except for one tushie that needed to be wiped). I was not rushing to do chumash with 12 year old, I was not hustling anyone to do schoolwork or finish something or other that is hard to do with an active toddler. (The chicken in Moana is clearly modelled after a toddler: same freak outs, same ridiculous repetitive behaviors.) And all of sudden I find myself finally calling a handyman to install the blinds before too many neighbors diplomatically suggest that we do it for our own good. And I'm making lasagna noodle roll-ups with tuna and spinach, using up leftovers. And I'm getting on IKEA home planner to figure out how to fit in a few more kitchen cabinets while thinking that maybe I should look into design or architecture classes. Is there a market for 40-year-old architects? And I finally threaded the washed 3 year old's car seat after a too-close encounter with raspberry jelly. The wipes did not cut it, so it had to be washed. Pesach came early, and I did it. And I'm thinking what else can I do with the kids around their 3 pm dentist appointment: drop off DVDs at the library because there is a branch not far from the office, stop by Aldi, run to IKEA to replace a vital screw that $%#$& movers did not put into the bunk bed? I did not realize that 10 yo telling me about his fear of the whole thing crashing down was not based on overreaction, but on solid engineering reality that a certain amount of supports is needed for the top bunk.

And I finished two books this past week: "Hillbilly Elegy" and "Run" by Ann Patchett. I cannot recall what was the last impactful book that I read before these two.

My time is slowly coming back to me. My time can also be snatched at any minute by a baby awakening from her nap, spilling pasta all over the floor, dumping cups of water, just screaming to be held. My time is also carved from the hours previously spent homeschooling. There is a misconception that unschooling means not doing anything with the kids, so why are the moms complaining that they are so busy? However, when you unschool, you are still in the picture, still available to answer questions, help with projects, do research, drop everything to read, etc. I am not currently unschooling. I am letting the older kids marinate in their own juices while I go and do my own thing. It is not clear-cut, as 10 yo, after this morning marinade, came to inform me that he and his two older siblings are about to produce Illiad , but a Wild West version. Ok, kids, I can write this down as an educational activity. I can boast about it: hey, my kids know enough about both to synthesize their own mashup. But I cannot call it unschooling, as I am refusing to participate more than a spectator.

Am I too high-strung to even unschool? Am I too controlling? Too worried about the outcome? Do I have too few resources, too few other adults who can spell me for a bit as the adult on duty? I don't know if I failed my kids by sending them to school, failed the ideals of homeschooling, failed myself. I do know that we, as a family, are ready for a new chapter. 12 yo is starting in a week and he is eager to have friends, hang out with friends, do things with friends, be in a class with friends. 10 yo came to terms with his new school reality. 6 yo is happy to have her girls back. And I am grateful for renewed energy and renewed ability to dream. I do wish so badly that my dreams involved homeschooling, spend long intense periods of time with the people that I birthed, educating them, learning alongside them. Right now, that is my fantasy. Right now, I need my space. I wish I did not have to carve time out for myself. I wish there would not be implied violence to time, but a peaceful flow.

growth and teshuva (repentance)

It is a good thing that my husband is my memory keeper. I was exasperated, complaining how 9 yo will never get fluency in reading Hebrew, and he reminded me how I worried and complained about him not knowing any English letters back when he was 5. "He will never read," I said. Then one day it clicked, and now he's a proficient reader.

That got me thinking. We know that he has anxiety. There might be a writing disorder. There might be dyslexia, or some sort of other learning difficulty. There are quantifiable and visible issues. The medication, both traditional and alternative, has cropped up. We have tried therapy, and we have talked about looking into more therapy. When you are a desperate parent, it is so easy to start grasping at any story of a child with a similar difficulty following XYZ plan and getting results. We want results now. We want change now. Moreover, we want a very certain prescription for change, something that we can follow and elicit change.

But that is not how things work.

9 yo still has hard time writing, but he is capable of doing it. 9 yo still has hard time reading Hebrew, but he has slowly built up stamina to try and read accurately. He can read many פסוקים in a sitting now, and he can translate and pick out שרשים. Also, he is at the point where he has interest in board games, competitive games. The same child who would not even try a game before for the fear of losing is now happily engrossed in Sorry, Monopoly and Parcheesi, all well-known for the competitive edge. He loses graciously, even despite his older brother egging him on.

His tantrums, while still occurring over seemingly trivial things, are much smaller. In fact, he came to the realization that he should work on not throwing fits. One of his self-discovered cures is playing the violin. Violin is not easy to play, and he is a beginner, which means, putting it mildly, he is not very good at it yet. Playing the violin and not getting the right sounds is very frustrating to him. I was anticipating this frustration, and got the rental insured, just in case here will be some throwing. Yet, 9 yo discovered that it is a calming activity.

I wish that I could point to a magic pill, and tell everyone else what the secret to these changes is, but, I'm afraid, it is just giving it time. With this extra time comes extra maturity and introspection. All of this makes me wonder whether in our desire to change our difficult children we jump the gun, counsel, treat and medicate instead of just waiting things out. Maybe what ends up working in the end is not the latest cure, but the simple gift of time.

The time between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur is known as עשרת ימי תשובה, ten days of repentance. Reading over Rambam's description of תשובה גמורה (complete repentance), one is struck with the complete transformation of a person, up to the point that one is called by a different name, because it is not the same person who did those sins. Yet, any aspect of תשובה that I have worked on was incremental. Change is slow, change takes time, change takes slip-ups and sliding back. Change appears instantaneous to the outside observer, yet, in the thick of it, change is often barely perceptible. Change is often a different thought pattern, Change is biting your tongue instead of saying something. Change is measured in these small steps, and often, one is not certain whether these steps are in the right direction.

Part of my תשובה is to be more patient with my kids, to give them the gift of time, and to allow them to change, mature and learn slowly.

camp leading to great expectations

Yesterday was the first day of camp.

All four older kids are going, the boys to one camp, 5 yo to girls' camp and 2 yo to a backyard camp.

I had great plans for this day. I had great plans for what to do while I only have one child at home instead of five.

I dropped everyone off, with baby crying hysterically during the drop off of 2 yo. I got home and nursed her, then put her to nap in 2 yo's room. I organized some things in my closet: moved my husband's clothes to the spot where he can get them without moving the pack-n-play, and finally switched out maternity tops.

Then the baby woke up.
Nursed her again, changed her diaper.

Made lasagna for dinner, had lunch.

Then the baby woke up.
Nursed her, changed her.

Loaded her into the stroller, went to the local Judaica store for a bar mitzvah gift and to Whole Foods for three items which are cheaper there than anywhere else. Spoke to my sister on the way back.

Opened up my laptop to blog.

Then the baby woke up.
Nursed her, got covered in spit-up, changed her and my clothes.

Got in the car for the afternoon carpool.

When we got home, she fell asleep. I stuck lasagna in the oven, read to 2 yo, directed everyone to hang up their bathing suits and towels. I almost told kids to go watch something, but they asked first.

Then the baby woke up.
I nursed her, got kids to set the table, served dinner.

Opened up my laptop for the second time, but did not get around to blogging before the baby was ready to nurse yet again.

By the end of the day, I was utterly exhausted. I also felt deflated: I had all these ideas and plans for the day, with kids being out of the house, and, in the end, it did not feel like anything got done.

This morning, I realized that I will have to adjust my expectations yet again. The baby requires just as much work as my other kids combined at this point. I still have a child at home who needs to be tended, and tended in a more hands-on manner. Each day I hope to do one thing for the house, one thing for the family and one thing for me (hey, this is my "staycation"!) Anything that gets done in addition to these is a bonus. Besides, my great plans often seem great before I get started on them, but when I am done, I feel like I did not accomplish much.

It is amazing how really nothing have changed, yet changing the perspective and approach made a huge difference. I feel much calmer today than I did yesterday. I did not find a cure for cancer or trained for a marathon. My house is not cleaner or more organized. But I have come up with a concrete way to measure accomplishments and to say: enough! I am doing enough.

some hard choices for next year

This past Sunday was the height of insanity: we attended an open house for one local dayschool, followed by a movie screening for "Class Dismissed". Oh, and it was my daughter's birthday, she turned 5, just the age for kindergarten or for chumash, depending on your perspective.

I have four kids, and I am expecting. I am also drowning. We are told that real drowning is really quiet, you have to watch for signs of it instead of expecting a victim to make a big loud splash and call for help. I feel that I am openly and loudly putting the signs out there that I am drowning, but I guess it appears to be quiet from the side, and a lot of people choose to look the other way.

I am very committed to the ideals of homeschooling. I know what it feels like when it is going smoothly, when kids are learning, when the sense of contentment and satisfaction fills the air. I also know what it feels like when things chafe and grate, and every day starts on a sour note and goes downhill from there. Lately, it's been feeling like drudgery, not unlike the feeling of school. There has been yelling and talking back, tantrums, messes, broken promises, unmet expectations (on both sides), and a whole lot of unhappiness. Some days I feel that we do not have a plan, others I feel overscheduled. And then throw in a newborn of unpredictable temperament into the mix, and you've got yourself a hot mess.

So I have been agonizing over the hardest decision: what to do with the kids for next year? Do I simply send all of them out, to give myself a year to regroup? Do I send out my oldest, to separate him from his impressionable brother, who is slowly coming into his own, in hope that school will give him structure and consequences? Do I send out 8 yo, hoping to alter the dynamic by having the "hardest" child out, and giving him a taste that other kids his age struggle with the same material? Do I send out my daughter, who is eager to go to school? Do I send out my 1 yo, in hopes that his active energy will be managed better outside the home and I will have some peace and quiet? Do I send out some combination of the above? Keep the older boys home while sending out the younger ones? Keep the younger ones home, do workbooks and reading at my daughter's bidding, and give them a chance to play and explore? Send out my oldest and my daughter, while focusing more on 8 yo?

I mull all these over and over in my head, I toss and turn and miss on sleep, yet the solution eludes me. I told the kids that school is a real possibility for next year, and they might not get much say in this decision.

The local, closest dayschool will not take 8 yo, despite incredible strides in his behavior over the past 6 months, since we have not started on medication or therapy. They would take my oldest son and daughter, and I could send 1 yo to a playgroup around the corner, running on the same schedule as a the school. But 10 yo will be in middle school, so drop off and pick up will be different from kindergarten and from 1 yo's playgroup.

The dayschool that held open house this past Sunday is probably off the table. They have the exact same schedule from infants through middle school, so that is a huge convenience factor. However, we attended on a Sunday, and all the kids that we met in the hallways, practicing for a play or basketball, did not wear a kippa. All the teachers and administrators were wearing slacks. They are clearly not marketing to the frum community. While the school is under Orthodox auspices, it is not a place where Judaism seemed to be a way of life. G-d did not enter the picture, but there were sprinklings of "feel-good" Jewish stuff, like random relics. The administrator obviously was more comfortable promoting the secular studies and enrichment over Judaics.

When we moved here, my husband quipped: there are two dayschools here: one does not believe in G-d and the other does not believe in dinosaurs. I hate having to decide between these two options.

A snippet: as my boys were touring the classrooms, they were reading posters on the walls. They wanted to stop and investigate further; the administrator was more interested in showing off "learning environment" and moving on. My oldest caught a math problem and noted how the prices for bananas and oranges in it were deflated. She exclaimed: you must have been to a grocery store to notice this! So I will be substituting real life for this educational fakeness which will supposedly be giving my kids real-life skills like thinking which this administrator insisted needed to be taught precisely through her thinking map program. I am sure it works great for some, and confuses others, but it sure makes administration feel great: we are teaching kids to think!

There is a third Orthodox option here, a Montessori-based Chabad school. It is on two campuses, one for preschool and kindergarten, and the other for elementary. We toured it with 8 yo back in November, as a possibility. They are holding their open house later this week, just for adults. The advantage is that their Judaism is authentic AND warm and fuzzy. The school is smaller, and they will probably take all four kids without too many discussions. The disadvantages are many: different approach to Judaism, which is more of a concern for older boys; weak academic stimulation due to poor resources, and kids are likely to languish without school supporting them or letting us know until they fail some sort of standardized test. Then again, if the goal is just to park kids somewhere not too damaging for a year and regroup, this might be an ideal place.

Now, for "Class Dismissed": I liked the movie. I recommend it for everyone: for those whose kids are in school. for those who are homeschooling, for those who contemplate homeschooling, but would never do it, etc. I think everyone can find something to take away from the movie. It follows a famly with two middle-school daughters, where mom pulls the girls out and chooses to homeschool. They try different approaches, talk to other homeschooling families, question their decision, try charter school, finally settling on an approach which works for them. After we finished, my husband said that he feels strengthened in his resolve to homeschool. I chuckled; I am committed to homeschooling, too, only we have slightly different circumstances. And this is where fantasy rubs against reality.

I am not aiming for school at home. I have dropped many of my expectations. I am ready to follow my children's lead and give them opportunities to pursue what interests them. The problem is, I have four of them already; I do not have a spouse who can routinely take kids with him to work, and I do not have that third parent (the girls' parents are divorced, so the girls spend some time with their father) to give the kids over and get some personal space. In fact, when they interviewed people on the street, the supposedly false assumption about needing three parents struck me as true.

What I do have are four kids withe very different personalities and needs (about to become five). One wants to socialize the whole day through, two want to sit at home and read. One wants an occasional play date, one wants a bunch of friends over for a competitive board game. One wants park non-stop, one wants a pet, one wants high-level science stimulation. Two crave imaginative play. One wants to scale every mountain, explore every rock, climb every tree. One wants Minecraft creativity and online socialization.

And then there is me, who also wants something, most likely a quiet hour here and there, and a nice hot cup of beverage, preferably the one I do not have to prepare myself, or clean up afterwards...

Oh, and then there is my husband. whose poor head is ready to explode as he is looking over dayschool tuition. It's a fact: even as a doctor, he is not making enough for us to be able to pay any of it in full. It is not a matter of being comfortable, or indulging; it's a matter of affordability. He is not making hundreds of thousands of dollars that would offset 50K that it would take to send my kids to school. So we will have to enter the world of explaining what is going on, how we have crazy medical school loans, how we are paying for every little aspect of our life ourselves.

I want homeschooling to work out, but I do not see how to do it successfully on my own. I don't want to send my kids to school and drive ourselves further into debt. But I also need to accept the reality that I cannot afford full-time help or assistant, and nobody in my immediate family will step up and take on that role. I also have to accept that my husband cannot do more educationally for my kids than sporadic learning, nor that he can reliably give me that breathing space. I will have to manage this aspect of my life by myself.

gearing up to a change

I'm slowly going through the sunroom, planning out the next school year. I have really fallen off the planning-ahead wagon, and I am desperate to get back on. I want to have achievable goals for what I am trying to accomplish with 10 yo.

I want to work on his grammar and writing. I am not worried about spelling as I think that will catch up with writing. I want to make sure that he gets math concepts. I want to finish Rosetta Stone. I want to focus a bit more on Hebrew grammar. I want to challenge him in geography and science. I want to increase the amount of daily pesukim in Chumash to five and finish Breishit, maybe even do a chunk of Shemot and move away from using nekudot in Rashi.

What I am realizing, sadly, is that how many of these goals are achievable, but I have not been pursuing them because they required my focus. The whole past year, all my focus has been on 8 yo and the baby, probably in that order. All the projects, ideas, objectives that I set out were thoroughly diverted. Many were not undertaken because I knew that 8 yo would never go along with them. Many were not undertaken because trying to get 8 yo to do any of his work could take any length of time. I was terrorized not knowing whether I will just need to sit down with him for 5 minutes and complete something, or whether he will throw an epic tantrum, follow me around, have tearful conversations full of hugs and then, hours later, we will be done. He would be reenergized and I was completely emotionally and physically exhausted.

While I still feel not very settled and calm about sending him to school, I feel much better realizing that now I have freedom to educate my other child in the way that he deserves to be taught. We had a conversation about starting back with Chumash. He was not very happy about the idea, but I insisted. He was grouchy and dramatically threw himself on the couch. I said that we will just find the place where we left off, and we will not do any Rashis today. He found the spot (we did not do Chumash for probably close to two months) and read it like he learned it yesterday. I saw that he was starting to get into his learning, so I left him with a few points dangling. Then we discussed when we will start official school year.

After this whole exchange I thought how normal it was: he voiced his opinion and preference, I stated my preference, he went along with what I suggested, implicitly trusting my judgement and I was careful not to exploit the situation. I got so used to constant explosions from 8 yo that I stopped having normal conversations with 10 yo, shouting commands instead or just giving up.

As I am going through different supplies and teaching aids that I made over the years, I am boxing many of them up. I am saving them for the day when 4 yo gets a bit older. She is easy to reason with, and she is eager to learn and eager to try new things. Perhaps she will appreciate all the different things that I collected, printed out, laminated. I feel a huge gap between what 10 yo knows and what 8 yo knows. I feel sad that despite all my efforts and different plans, I was not able to design a method which satisfied us both. But I am also looking forward to spending enjoyable time learning with my other kids.

getting a psychological evaluation

There is this beautiful example of getting ready for Shabbos early going around: have your table set and all the preparations finished by chatzot (midday) of Friday. While I appreciate the idea, it never worked for me: when I was working, I did not get home till a few hours before Shabbos, and now, with kids at home, we are often still using the dining room table late into the afternoon. And this week, my newly-crawling baby reminded me why I used to set the table only after my husband got home from shul: he got hold of the edge of the tablecloth and started pulling. So while the concept of going into Shabbos in an unhurried manner appeals tremendously, honestly, it is not happening to us.

I used to feel the same way about labeling and diagnosing, especially boys. I was very inspired by Boys Adrift and the theory that boys are overmedicated today, and normal boy tendencies are squelched. I have been careful to avoid labels, especially for 7 yo. I knew that there is something going on, but with individualized instruction and lots of freedom to move and be, he would be better off at home than in any other scenario.

Lately, I had been not so sure. We are butting heads and butting heads. He keeps getting triggered into fits: one day it's one thing, next day it's something else. He is anxious and stubborn. 3 yo started to emulate his sulking behaviorand repeat some choice phrases. A few weeks ago, after a particularly trying day, when both boys acted up and did not listen, and 7 yo decided to pull on me "you are making me do things that 7 year olds are not supposed to do", I yelled back "Enough! I'm sending you to school! Then you will see what other kids your age are doing!" They quieted down, but the thought stuck with me.

I told my husband the same evening that I'm seriously considering sending both boys to school. They do not appreciate the amount of freedom they have now, it is too much for me, and let them experience for themselves what they should be doing. I also said that I'm not even sure that the local dayschool will so readily take 7 yo, with his outbursts and refusal to write, they will send him to public school, and the public school with require educational testing and psychological evaluation to get a label on his problem. My husband thoughtfully said: "If we will have to do it anyway, why can't we get him tested ourselves? Why are we avoiding this?"

Very good question.

I have resolved to get him tested and finally see what is the proper name to this craziness. (And yes, I am still considering sending either or both boys to school. Call me a traitor to the ideals of homeschooling, but it has not been feeling warm and fuzzy lately. If it's not working, I am not so stuck up to keep on plowing through becausse I have a reputation to uphold). However, from my previous asking around, I got that we are looking at thousands of dollars in expenses, coupled with potential long waits and probably just a label slapped on, not practical solutions. I figured, we probably will need an exemption from the standardized test that he would have to take next year, or at least, an accommodation, so a label will have at least a limited practical use. This time, I confided in a friend, who sent me to another mutual friend, saying that she knows people. That second friend gave me a name of this person, and that person, and warned me that a lot of them do not take insurance. I was listening to her while simultaneously feeding mush to my baby strapped in a stroller and glancing over 3 yo at the playground. I meekly suggested that she e-mail me the names of these people. And then she mentioned, by the way, this psychologist friend of her husband is coming into town on Friday since he has to testify, and he does educational testing, but at less than half of the cost. He had to cancel all his appointments on Friday, so she is sure that he would love to get some work done. I said that it's a good option to consider. Then I looked at myself, covered in mush, and thought: am I going to have time to go home, look up these people online, call and ask around, and then decide? I said, please send me his number and tell him I would like to have my son tested on Friday.

We spoke on the phone, and agreed that the psychologist will come to my house after he's finished testifying. I told 7 yo that a psychologist will be coming. He asked me whether he will be able to read his mind. I laughed and said, no, but he will see what we can do to help you learn better. He wanted to know exactly what the psychologist will be doing. I said that I did not know, and I was very careful not to use the word "test".

On Friday, the testing took place. As a psychometrist was working with 7 yo, I chatted with the psychologist about my concerns. I had to fill out a few questionnaires. When I saw one of them, I laughed: a friend of mine just fumed on Facebook the other week about these ridiculous statements: "My child behaves like an angel", "My child is perfect in every way". Do people really answer "always"? So thank you for advance warning.

I was quite nervous whether 7 yo will sit still for three hours of testing, whether he will lose his temper and throw a tantrum. Well, he worked the whole time and seemed to be totally fine. This made me feel totally crazy: maybe he will work hard for others, but not for me? Maybe I'm in the way of his learning? He told me: "I had hard time with spelling but I just need to sound out the words". Sure, because I never tried to provide him with this piece of information. Silly mommy, just tell him to sound them out!

After everyone left, I asked 7 yo to tell me a bit about what he had to do. He described some activities, and he told me which ones he liked. He mentioned that he had to divide 7 by 2. I asked him, what was the answer and he said that he did not get to it. I asked him, was this hard? He thought and said that some of it was. I paused and asked him, but even when it was hard, you did not get angry and cry? He said, no, because then they would think that he's acting like a baby. I paused and asked again, so why do you scream at me, aren't you acting like a baby? He said, nobody is watching me and would make fun of me.

Right. So he feels comfortable at home to express his frustration, but he was too embarrassed to do that in front of the psychometrist. Did he dupe the system? What happens if I do send him to school? Will he keep it together there, bow to peer pressure only to melt down completely later, in the safety of our home?

This Friday night, my brother-in-law came over with his girlfriend, who is a music teacher. When we chatted a bit about this whole thing, she told me that a lot of parents tell her that kids do just that, rip off the mask of holding it all together as soon as they are in their parents' car. And on an unrelated note, watching 7 yo read "Winnie the Pooh" on the floor and giggle, she said that her students do not do that, because they don't understand what they read or enjoy it, they just get tested on it.

So I am waiting for results, and looking to see what kind of adjustments we'll have to do.

I guess my resistance to testing is in the same hypothetical realm as having everything set for Shabbos before chatzot: both are lovely to consider, but often impossible to pull off.

Life of Fred

I kept my eye out to buy Life of Fred math series for over a year. Since they come out to be pricey once you get all the books, I did not buy them right away. During the summer, through some sale, I saw them at the cheapest and scooped them up. I got all ten books in the elementary series. During major unschooling phase, it made sense to get them, especially since my back-up curriculum was Math Mammoth and a paperback Spectrum book, both of which were way cheaper than any consumable textbook.

When I got the books, the boys sat down and read them like they read literature. I don't think either one of them finished the entire series. What I do know is that neither pulled out a pencil and paper and solved any problems in the books. They giggled while reading, they told me how Fred has a pet tiger, and tidbits from the books entered here and there. After the initial read-through, the books went to collect dust on the shelf.

A few weeks ago I was planning to write a post about all these good intentions we have, and the resources we acquire, only to be pushed aside by the kids who have their own interests and agenda. Life of Fred was going to be a shining example of that elusive curriculum, obtained at a cost, used once, and discarded. Yet my kids proved me wrong again.

We are in the middle of borrowing and carrying with 7 yo. He is quite worried about it. When he has a word problem, he knows what he has to do, but when it is just columns of addition and subtraction, he gets lost and discouraged. Besides, he still confuses which number should be subtracted from which. Basically, he went back to tantrums about math. One of those days, when I was writing up a schedule, Life of Fred came up. I suggested we do that instead of his workbook, but he has to work on "Your Turn To Play". He agreed. We started in the beginning, which was quite easy. The boys knew the story line (I did not), and 9 yo flew through all assignments. 7 yo had no problem with the math component, but was unsure about writing down the names of the days of the week.

We ended up using Life of Fred just a few times, but since then, the boys pulled out the rest of books and are busy rereading them. I guess it was not such a waste of money at the end.

thoughts on "crying it out"

"Crying it out" had gotten a bad rep. One friend recently posted on facebook: why would anyone let their baby cry it out? The response was: because you are desperate. And because it works, and the kids (and parents) finally sleep,

Oh, we are supposed to be all cuddly and lovey-dovey. All the time. Even when the kids would have deserved that smack on the behind (from the olden days). Even when we spent the whole day catering to everyone's needs and nobody bothered to ask, what do you need, Mom? Even when there has not been a good night of sleep in months and months, and no break,  we are supposed to be calm and patient saints. Yet, once you talk to these "saints" it becomes clear pretty quickly that they have a whole team behind them. Usually there is a husband with a flexible job, or a 9-to-5 job, home for dinner. Usually that said husband lets the mom sleep in in the morning, or gets her breakfast, or takes the kids out of the house for a couple hours. Usually there is some other adult doing some kind of other duty: regular babysitter, house cleaner, au pair, teenager. Then the mom gets to be all saintly, and radiate peace and calm in all those trying situations. Those tend to be the types who are oh-so-opposed to "crying it out".

My husband has not been home since yesterday's morning. First thing, 9 yo threw a fir about davening and life in general. We were late for a concert in Spivey Hall which 9 yo called babyish despite enjoying it. We were late to taekwondo because I tried bribing everyone with a run to Krispy Kreme, hoping to get a kvetchy baby extra twenty minutes of a nap in the moving car. Next thing I know, we are stuck in traffic, baby is yelling anyway, one kid is freaking out because I said we are only getting original glazed form a drive-thru, next kid is freaking out that we are late to taekwndo and we should just go home....

Then it is me, alone, sitting in taekwondo lounge with 3 yo and the baby. Then I have to serve dinner which at least one kid finds a fault with, then tuck everyone into bed, then make Shabbos. I managed to burn rice so thoroughly that the pot had to go in the garbage, not to mention that I had to cook rice again. Then I have to do at least basic straightening up. No other adult in sight, not till Friday afternoon.

Just as I am turning in, the baby is up. Paci is rejected, so I nurse and go to sleep. Then, an hour later, 3 yo is uncharacteristically up, crying. I go and say something to her or other, sorry, I'm a bit fuzzy on that, but she gets quiet. Then, just as I manage to fall asleep again, the baby is up again. No paci, I just nursed him, and he is screaming, and waking up 9 yo.

Oh, just shush, just let me sleep. Just somebody do something, anything, to get him quiet, and get me some sleep. Remember, my husband is not home, so there is no sleeping in in the morning, no way that I can make up this exhausting stretch. He is yelling, I am trying to alternate between a paci and nursing and a tight swaddle. That hard edge of despair is there. You want an emergency? This is it. Now I am remembering that they have those new parent hotlines, call any time of day or night. But at that moment of total despair, I was not thinking of that. I was thinking, just shush, shush already.

You know what? He was crying, I was crying. We were both crying it out. Am I not a person, too? Do I not deserve a bit of compassion? We would have all been better off if I would have just left him in his crib, crying, then race frantically from one corner of the room to another, clutching him. And it would have been better for all if I would have let him cry it out a month ago, and be sleeping through the night now.

I did "cry it out" with my oldest. It took one night, 40 minutes of crying (his and mine, in separate rooms), but that kid slept through the night ever since. He is the best sleeper out of all of them. I do not regret it, not one bit. If he's going to be in therapy, it will not be for this.

Do not throw suggestions at me, unless you are willing to be on my speed-dial and be summoned in the middle of the night to come and work your magic. Do not throw soothing words. They do not help when you get that desperate. When it gets to this point, you just need your sleep and sanity, and you need that kid to be quiet.

Hopefully, you will have your support team, and you can read this, shake your head at my "unenlightened" ways and say that nobody should get so cruel. Then you will send the kids out to your husband, go take your solitary morning walk, and complain how if only people were all a bit calmer, the world would be a better place.

when the going gets tough

This week, there were moments when I felt my kids would have been better off in school.

"Mommy, every time you yell at me, I feel like a go-go (knock-over toy) that was tipped over and died."

"Just ignore me, do not talk to me."

Grabbing frantically to my leg, yelling: "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!"

"Mommy, what's the agenda for today?"

And the baby, while still being quite easy, does not always get to nurse when he's ready because I might be in the middle of something with one of the other kids, like yelling at them to clean up this or brush their teeth or gosh darn figure out if they are done with lunch. Then he's yelling, too.

Last night, as I sat there nursing with a kvetchy baby who could not make up his mind whether to sleep or to eat or to take a pacifier, all the exhaustion of the past week kicked in. The thoughts crept in: maybe it would be better if the kids were in school. Maybe they need more structure than the free-for-all of unschooling that we are currently experiencing. Maybe I'm not letting them fully be, and instead transferring my stress onto them while in school they would have a professional teacher who would check his emotions and show pure empathy. Maybe they would have been treated better at school than the way they are getting treated at home.

I went to sleep like this, and in the morning voiced my concerns to my husband who last night was planning his flight to Chicago to take his medical boards and was trying to get tickets so that I would not have to spend a Shabbos alone. He said: "It's just one week. The rest of the weeks are fine." At first I protested internally, one week can do a lot of damage and, with Pesach and attendant stress coming, it is probably more than one bad week. But then I thought: would I really undo a lot of good work and good relationship by one bad week?

The kids are being just what they are: kids. At least they are expressing themselves, so I can know what their needs and concerns are and can meet them. They trust me enough to voice what they feel instead of keeping it bottled inside because Mommy would get upset. They are also testing the boundaries: will Mommy still love me if I cross this line? Will she pass the test or fail? And as I fail (major screaming and freak-out at both boys yesterday), today is a new day to start over, calmly.

I know that some can bristle at the honesty here. We are so enamored with the idea of motherhood as sainthood, that when the realities of life come through, we assume that it is the end of the world. It should not be talked about, only good things. The screaming, the losing it, the craziness are all swept under the rug. Only marvelous coping (which happened last week), not the yucky parts.

To all mothers out there having a bad day or a bad week or a bad spell: we all go through it. You are not a bad mother, just a bit frazzled at the time. Take a deep breath, and start all over again. Your kids will not hold it against you.

change is hard

I am rounding up our academic year here, and this is a reflection of my current being.

I want to be a better parent, a better mother, a better role model. I have an idea of where I would like myself to be, which personality traits to shine and which to control. I know I need to yell less. I need to stress less. I need to plan less and go with the flow. I need to relax more and stop pressuring myself and the kids. I need to let go of my anal nature and embrace laid-back sides of me.

I know all of this, but change is hard.

Before I expect my kids to change their behaviors, and there are plenty of those, I need to remember how hard it is for me to change.

I need a game plan for myself.

I tell kids not to yell, but I slip into yelling. In order for my yelling to be effective, it needs to be used sparingly, only for emergencies and truly dire situations.

I know that one of my kids is very good at mirroring and magnifying emotions around him. I need to provide positive emotions to mirror.

I know unschooling works, yet, at the back of my mind, there is a nagging thought: what if they will never master this or that? What if they are behind? What if they will grow up lazy and stupid and you will only have yourself to blame? So I plan and spring my plans on them. They recoil and resist, I get wound up, and at the end, everyone loses.

The more I look around, the more I see that what is considered "education" is just a facade. Real learning happens all the time, only it is not easily classifiable. Real learning happens when you do not want it to happen, like when you lose it, and you are too tired to do whatever it is the kids asked you to do, or you minimize their request because, it is not important. Not important to whom? It might mean the world to them.

I clearly remember the day I learned the word "egotist". My father was supposed to take me to work with him, but, for whichever reason, it did not happen. I was quite upset, because it was important for me to go with him. My mother tried reasoning and explaining that I am behaving egotistically, thinking only about myself. Well, I was! Now, in addition to being upset, I was also behaving badly.

People do swearing jars. I think I need a whole collection: yelling jar, OCD jar, pressuring jar...

As for kids: we have been doing a bit of schoolwork here and there, but all real learning has been through unschooling. Like my 2 year old learning the letters off my T-shirts and then calling them out in books, or counting the eggs while baking muffins, in English and in Hebrew.Or 6 yo asking who is Elvis, and when I explain, exclaiming that Elvisosaurus is that dinosaur with a crest and 8 yo reminding me of Hound dog on my iPod. Or 8 yo talking about terrible clef and quark cheese being made up of quarks, of course. Or 8 year old asking me what's 12 times 4, because he wants to know how many more weeks till his birthday, and then figuring out that it's the same as 6 times 8, only he does not know that one, either, so then he added up two twelves, and then added the sum. Or 8 yo asking to do Rashis, because he's excited about them. We were ion the middle of Hagar and Ishmael story. I asked him what he thought about Hagar leaving Ishmael under a bush so she does not see him die. I asked if he would do the same, he said, yes. Then I gave him the following scenario: he breaks an arm and cries and I do not come over because I do not want to see his pain. His lip quivered and he said he does not want to talk about this any more. In fact, the next day he refused to answer anything about that pasuk, too painful. I keep forgetting how sensitive he is under all that tough big boy facade.

I need to pull back and cut my ambitions.

Change is hard.