parental suffering

Growing up, a common Russian refrain was: wait till you have kids and they will behave towards you like you behave towards me and then you will experience what it is like to be in my shoes. The idea was that parenting required suffering by the parents through the hands of their offspring, but hope was on the horizon, in the guise of those mythical future children who will repay and maybe even make future parental suffering worse.

https://media.parentcircle.com/DATA/article
/scolding-your-child-to-discipline-him-parents-know-your-limits_8983f.jpg

I thought about this a whole lot. In some ways, there is no way to shield future parents from the basic forms of children's behavior, including tantrums, crying, screaming, disappointment. But that is not the essence of this parental "curse". It is the idea that suffering will be a measure for measure: just as you made me worry about your rudeness, recklessness, disappointment, so may your kids trouble you. Now, does that necessarily have to come true? I do not wish upon my children to experience some of the extreme emotions they have put me through. I hope that they grow up to be balanced enough adults that they will be able to separate their own reaction from the actions of their children. I do not want to take revenge on my children because no matter what amount of heartache they put me through, who gains from this multi-generational suffering? It is not that the behavior of these grandchildren will change, but the parental response. This change has to start with me. I have already been parenting quite differently at year 14 than I was at year 1 or 3. Some of the shenanigans are the same, but my choice how to react to them is different.

May my dear children not experience dread and shame in their parenting. May they grow up to be resourceful, resilient adults who know how to regulate their emotions and teach this to their own offspring. And may I get to see this.

permission to have fun

My older boys are sitting at the computer, typing up a shareable spreadsheet of what they would hypothetically want. It was my idea, when 12 yo approached me with yet another wish that he had. I suggested that he starts writing those wishes down and then, closer to his birthday or Yom Tov, he can take a look and decide what he is still interested in. He wanted to make a Word document, but his more electronics-savvy older brother took over and suggested Excel. I chimed in that if they do a Google doc, we can all see it and edit it and share it. 14 yo immediately corrected me that it is a Sheet...

I am standing there, folding laundry. It is not boys' laundry, but it does contain their bedsheets, towels that the whole family used and many other items. I am folding laundry and every once in a while go to do something else: chop fruit to make a pitcher of sangria "for later", check my phone, put away dinner leftovers.

Since this wishlist ended up being designed like a family wishlist, 12 yo asked me what is it that I wished for. I said, I wish I were not the only one folding laundry so that I could get to sit on the back porch while it is still daylight and watch the second Lion King movie. I have never seen it. I checked it out of the library for the kids because it was free and not available through Netflix or Amazon Prime. The kids saw all three Lion King movies, and some of them twice during the period that we had them out. I know it is due back later this week. I know it was released two decades ago. But I still have not seen it.

So instead of doing what I wanted to do (watch a G movie with sangria and maybe even with the company of those who appreciate Disney sequels), I am folding laundry, convincing myself that as soon as I am done with the laundry I will get around to watching the movie. It is almost like making myself swallow a bitter pill because I know sweet things are coming. Except that I often never get to the rewarding part of doing what I want to do. Because the reward is not a given, I am really resenting this laundry. I am constantly interrupting my tedious task with those other diversions: what's on Facebook? What's in that e-mail? Oh, look, food to be Saran-wrapped and put away. I am distracting myself from a distraction.
Brene Brown talks about writing a permission slip to herself to loosen up and have fun. I might need to take up her practice. My boys certainly gave themselves permission to sit and browse and hypothesize while the dinner is still on the table, the family laundry is piled high and they might not have a clean dry pair of socks between the two of them

changes

Slowly but surely, I am entering a new stage of my life. 5 year old transitioned to showers on his own, so I only have one child to wash. 3 yo decided that two days before a major trip is a good time to start potty training in earnest, so soon I will not need to buy diapers by the Costco box.

We are up to consuming 2+ gallons of milk every week. I no longer freeze large shredded cheese bags because we use them up quickly enough. I seem unable to keep enough cereal and bananas and Morningstar chik patties in the house. I have not set a table for a while.

There is no spit-up on my shoulders. I have been rocking dresses for a straight year, enjoying the freedom of not nursing. I loved nursing my children. It went well: everyone made it to at least a year. It was nice and sweet and close and bonding, but I cannot deny that it is over and I do not look back at those five cumulative years of wardrobe manipulation with sadness.

My three oldest could bike anywhere. 5 year old is working hard at keeping up with his training wheels. I have four out of five swimmers. Pool time this summer might even be enjoyable.

There never seem to be enough clean socks. Most socks are wadded up into little black balls, shedding dirt. When I unravel them before their trip to the washing machine, huge heel holes gape at me. The socks are the casualty of the trampoline, of the deck, of the hammock, of active play, of engagement where a cartwheel practice takes precedence over order and appearance.

Life is crazy and good and unpredictable and whirlwind with five kids. It is like being inside a covered water slide: you can fight the current, but it will pull you along through dark and light patches, not caring one whit whether you are ready, whether you are afraid. You might as well surrender, throw your head back, and enjoy the ride.

https://www.greatwolf.com/mason/waterpark-attractions/swim-splash-slide/alberta-falls

My oldest did not stay up for the second Seder, at all.

My daughter, 8yo, stayed up for both sedarim, but we were paid back in an abundantly cranky child. My youngest finished off Yom Tov by throwing up in the car on the way to get that first chametz fix post-Pesach. So good that we are so flexible, such good sports, just came back home, changed the baby, wiped more vomit, stopped at Kroger for packaged bagels instead of piping hot Krispy Kreme...

On Monday, 2 yo stayed home because I do not like spreading stomach yuck to other preschool kids. Thank G-d she napped, but it took me a good half an hour of lying down next to a whirling dervish till she settled down.

On Tuesday, 8 yo broke a pinkie finger playing soccer at recess, so good thing I had pesach matzagna stashed away for dinner that night because we paid an unexpected visit to urgent care. Kids ignored the matzagna, especially 5 yo who yelled his head off that there is nothing yummy to eat and went to sleep without dinner by choice.

Today is my oldest's birthday. He is 14 and I do not feel as optimistic about this whole teen maturation thing. What I do get is a shlep to get Chinese takeout for his birthday dinner while the other boy is at his science nature physics class. Then I get to pick him up, rush him home, quickly dump the groceries and go pick up the rest of the children.

On Monday, when he is in extended drop-off at D&D, I get to go and take my daughter with her broken finger to an orthopedic surgeon to rule out that she needs surgery or cast or anything. Somehow, in the next little while, it does not look like there is a break coming.

My oldest finally rigged a hammock on the pergola, but my youngest uses it as a personal swing when she is home. She is quite possessive of it. I keep envisioning sitting in it, having a cuppa, enjoying the birdies chirping. My fantasy keeps getting rudely interrupted by the reality of many mommy, mommy, mommy, wah!

My youngest will be three at the end of the month. She is not even home for hours at a time. But whatever mojo I thought I would be getting back, whatever hopes and dreams I was supposed to accomplish, whatever schemes and plans were supposed to arise in my mind with the possibility of coming to fruition are lying dormant.

I am tired, bone-weary tired.

I kept wondering why mothers of many children do not write tell-all books. Now I know they do not have much to say except for hold them, love them, throw some food at them, yell some, and keep everyone alive. And somehow it will all pass.

I wanted to go walking

Today was supposed to be hiking day. There was nothing scheduled until the evening, kids start school the following week, I need to get into nature, we didn't hike enough. But today was raining.

I made other plans, threw three youngest kids into the van, drove to Ikea to salvage the day. The Smaland was closed. I killed half an hour in front of it until the manager confirmed that it will not open. Doing Ikea with three kids, one of whom does not want to walk in a straight line resulted in a lady reprimanding the kids for climbing onto the podium where they don't belong. No, I did not buy what I needed, but I still spent money. The store's credit card system was down. One thing after another.


I came home to discover my boys who were supposed to be learning with the SEED boys on their DS. I was not amused.

I wanted to go walking. The rain stopped, so my daughter asked if we could go swimming. Since it was 70 degrees, I nixed outdoor pool. She sulked. I offered to do a hiking path in the park. She expressed her extreme displeasure. My oldest slyly suggested bowling. I retorted that he's grounded. 4 yo wanted playground. It is extremely wet.

I wanted to go walking. After intense negotiations, 4 yo and 2 yo came with me. I brought an umbrella stroller. 2 yo refused to sit in it. Instead, she pushed it. When she yells: "Help me!" it actually means "don't help me". We got to the bottom of the driveway. It started drizzling. 4 yo did not look so sure about walking. 2 yo kept on pushing the stroller without the ability to see where she was going. 4 yo walked two doors down with us and then announced that he's going home. I tried coaxing 2 yo into the stroller. She refused. We stood there, turning circles, me keeping her away from the passing cars.

I wanted to go walking. We came home. 13 yo and 7 yo were sketching from photos. 2 yo drew on the wall. I made soup. The sun shone through the clouds.

I still want to go walking, Exercise is good for anxiety and depression. Walking is a safe exercise that does not cost anything. Being in nature lifts one's mental state. Everyone should get out there.

Everyone that can, that is.

skipping a step

We have lived in this new house for six months. There are two stories, so I spend plenty of time going up and down the stairs and I've noticed something interesting: I keep tripping when going up the staircase. I trip daily, sometimes every single time I go up. It's the fifth step usually that trips me, although sometimes it's the fourth and sometimes I make it higher up before tripping. The shoes that I am wearing, the slippers, the bare feet: none of these seem to make a difference. I have not done a full face plant yet, but I had to catch myself numerous times either by landing on my hands or grabbing the railing.

I asked my husband whether he shares a similar experience and he shrugged, saying that it does not happen to him, so there is most likely no inherent defect with the steps.

After reading "At Home" by Bill Bryson I appreciate a bit more what it takes to make a functional staircase. There are rules for making steps not too steep, not too high, not too shallow yet elevated enough to bring one up in elevation. I have no reason to suspect that I have an unusual staircase in my house. Stairs are made to be uniform so that one does not have to think about how to place one's feet going up. One is supposed to establish a rhythm and follow it and the steps are specifically uniform so that one does not trip and fall.

So what is going on?

The original steps, used by pilgrims

When we were in Israel, in Jerusalem, we were taken to the side area of the Kotel. (Forgive me for not recalling its proper name: I had a hot sleeping two year old on my back). There was an expanse of stone steps, most likely from the time of the Second Beis Hamikdash. The first and most noticeable fact is that they are not uniform: each one is different in size. The purpose of this was to grab attention of all those approaching and remind them: be mindful of where you place your feet, you are about to rendezvous with the Divine and that can only be done by making every step count.

Why can't I fall into an easy rhythm while going up a regular staircase in my house? Why are my feet not on autopilot? Why do they seek novelty around that fifth step? Am I subconsciously bored with the routine of climbing up and I make my own diversion? Or am I too mindless in climbing those stairs and I need to pay more attention where my feet land?

7 yo and 4 yo descending. The closer up steps are a recent renovation.

I keep thinking how so much of what brings pleasure in life is the balance between familiarity and novelty, between routine and excitement. Yet often I wish for normalcy when life hands me adventure and vice versa. I am not sure how much of this is my ingrained dissatisfaction with status quo, whatever it happens to be, and how much of it is not having control over which period of life I will be in.

In the meanwhile, I'll watch my step.

Dinner in an hour

This is not a foodie blog and I do not have pictures to go with what I am about to post, but I figured it might be helpful to some mom out there.

We went to a lake to swim with some homeschool friends, so I did not get started on dinner till 4. I had it on the table at 5 (fine, 5:05 for transparency's sake). No, it was not take-out. No, it was not chicken nuggets or frozen pizza. It was a solid dinner: soup, main, starch, veggie. No, it was not a miracle.

This morning I pulled a bag of chicken cutlets from the freezer. Since I buy them at Costco, I usually divide the large family pack into two bags before freezing. This bag had breasts sliced in half, so it defrosted quickly.

At 4 I turned the oven up to 400, rinsed the breasts and put them in the pan. I sprinkled them with sesame oil, soy sauce, onion flakes, garlic powder, ginger and a drizzle of honey. Then I mixed them in the pan so the breasts were well-coated, covered them with foil and stuck them in the oven. Next, I rinsed one cup of rice in another pan, added 1 3/4 cups of water, a drizzle of olive oil, covered that pan, and stuck it in the oven with the chicken.

I usually make this quick zucchini soup. two onions, chopped, 4-6 zucchini, chopped into chunks, vegetable broth to cover, 1/4 cup of rice, bring to a boil, add seasoning, simmer for 20 minutes, puree with immersion blender straight in the pot, voila! Except that I like to doctor it up: add quinoa instead of rice, or throw in extra veggies. Today, as I was reaching for a bag of quinoa, I found a package of edamame noodles from Costco. They were brittle, they were green, and they had zero appeal of the noodles, so they were sitting in the pantry. An evil genius idea of a substitution: why don't I crumble them in instead of quinoa, then puree and nobody will know? Look at all the extra protein! Look at me salvaging what I'm sure were expensive noodles, languishing here! Hehe! So in they went. I made a mental note to remove any traces of what I did before the kids who will come to set the table express their opinion on my substitution without a taste test.

While the soup was simmering, I pulled out a bag of string beans and another pan. I trimmed the ends, tossed them with a bit of olive oil, spread them in a pan and sprinkled with salt. Then they went in the oven together with the chicken and rice.

I checked my phone. I stretched. This dinner was practically cooking itself. I uncovered the chicken so it could get dry in its sauce. I threw a bunch of parsley from my garden into the soup (it's about the only thing that grew in the garden, but it sounds very foodie of me now: freshly snipped parsley! In reality, I was too lazy to go and get scissors, so I twisted and yanked). I pureed the soup while adding cumin and curry and called the kids to set the table.

They fought. Just because I had dinner under control did not mean that they turn into angels. One child provoked another. By the time, I took a bathroom break, a steady wail in stereo leaked under the door. One child touched another. One child lost dessert.

It was dinnertime. Dinner was served.

They ate the soup with the green edamame noodles incorporated into it. Hint: soup croutons make all soup taste better. Some asked for seconds. They discussed how much fun they had playing with their friends, making elaborate sand dams.

Save this post for the next time dinner prep gets in the way of getting together with some friends and spending the day at the beach.

"All or nothing" thinking

One of the things that my therapist keeps bringing up is "all or nothing" thinking. In a nutshell, it is exactly as it sounds: either have it all, or nothing at all. I apparently suffer from it. It is not healthy because, well, I cannot have it all, and, as a result, I keep on feeling like I have none. Once you have none, what's the point of trying?

I have been thinking about this for a while. I know that it is better to be flexible, to enjoy even increments, to reframe small victories and defeats as just that. However, I have also been thinking how that's directly opposite of what brings happiness and satisfaction (not contentment, as that does seem to come from highs not being so high and lows not being so low).

A lovely poem, courtesy of Well-Trained Mind:

Work While you Work

Submitted By: Nancy Keslin

Work while you work,
Play while you play,
This is the way
To be happy each day.

All that you do,
Do with your might,
Things done by half
Are never done right.

Author: Unknown

A lovely sentiment, isn't it? And a perfect example of "all or nothing" thinking. We encourage our children to memorize it.

"I always type with one hand while wearing
 a white sweater. My baby's foot is
 perfectly positioned to spill
a cup of coffee all over my sweater.
Unless she chooses to spill that glass
of freshly squeezed orange juice over my laptop first". 

Then there is work itself. Either you are a working mom (guilt over not staying home with your kids, missing out special moments, etc, etc) or you are a SAHM (guilt over not contributing to income, wasting education, etc). Anyone who says "work from home" has not tried to actually work from home. It is not like those images: the babies do not let you type or complete phone calls. If you want to work from home, you need a space where you can escape, lock the door and not answer unless there is gushing blood. Or hire a sitter, which defeats the "staying home with kids" feeling. Besides, it is hard to do work with all your might when there is laundry to be washed, dinner to be started, plants to be watered, behinds to be wiped. So many "work from home" people, men and women alike, escape to Starbucks or some other location where the rest of house is not beckoning with the never-ending list of chores.

I have a four year old. He is in preschool every day from 9:30 till 1:30. I thought and thought and approached them about sending him next year, for a longer day, but only two or three days a week. No, nope. He is four, so it's pre-K, so he needs to go five days a week so he doesn't miss anything. Or don't send him at all. All or nothing thinking. I have been telling them that I do not worry about curriculum gaps because going to the zoo or being read to at home or unloading groceries is just as important as learning about a community helper of the week. They said, maybe, just maybe, if I send him four days a week it could work.

I wish I could send my older kids to school just for Judaics, but it's either the whole deal, or nothing. I wish there was a flexible education program where you sign up for a few gloomy winter weeks and then get the kids back to enjoy glorious spring days. I wish I could take them on multi-day trips and still get some structure when we come back, or unload some of the learning in the areas where I am weak. But schools and programs are rigid: either you sign up and commit to a full day, a semester, a year, or don't even bother.

And then something funny happens. Just as I got all my kids into schools, admitted an end to homeschooling, and their learning became someone else's responsibility, just as they all insisted has to be done to implement curriculum and achieve results, I am bombarded with school communications. Science fair! Scholastic! Curriculum night! Parent-teacher conferences! Learning opportunity alongside your child! And if you say "no thank you", now you are a bad parent for not being invested in your child's education. Multiply that by three schools, and you are constantly saying "no" and constantly feeling like you are directly messing your child up.

I had this conflict come up in a visceral way with preschool. They were having a special visitor day at the same time I was supposed to see my therapist. So I had to choose: be a good parent by coming to my kids' school, or a be a good parent by trying to claw out from a major depression? Guilt all around because you cannot have it all, because you cannot clone yourself and be in two places at the same time.

At the same time, if I am reading a book, I just want to focus on the book and not be interrupted every five minutes. If I am cooking, I just want to be cooking. If I am signing up for art class, I want to attend all the sessions. And if I am relaxing, I just want to be relaxing.

Anyone else has trouble with this?

An update

We were supposed to move, to a bigger house, in another neighborhood. I spent most of the summer packing, decluttering, and dealing with all the things that come with buying a house. I even spent energy on those hypothetical closets, convincing myself that it will he painful for a bit, and then there will be order.

The house sale fell through, but not early enough to realize that this is not happening. Some paperwork was required at the last minute, and that paperwork was something that we could not produce, no matter how much we pushed, begged and pleaded. Maybe I will write up one day what happens when a doctor gets a frivolous lawsuit and how little it matters who is right. Maybe I will write how some things have nothing to do with prudence and planning and saving. It is ironic that the house prices are so ridiculously inflated that it is impossible to buy a house without financing, no matter how carefully you save. The bottom line was, the same week that we were supposed to move, and all extensions were filed and not even exactly accepted, it became clear that this house is not going to be ours.

That left me in a very bad pickle: I have packed up all the books and most of the homeschool materials. I have taken all the posters off the walls. I was also planning on being near JCC and rely on their homeschool, afterschool, and adult classes for enrichment. We were supposed to be near a community college with its own course offerings. I gingerly checked out homeschool resources near the new location, but I definitely did not sign up for any classes where we live.

3yo made a fire-shooting tail for his dragon.
He is happy as long as he can find scissors, tape and paper

Those who were following this blog know that I also signed up 10 yo for school. First I put him on the bus so I would not have to drive him, then I told the school to take him off since there is no bus from the new location, then I had to beg them to please put him back on the bus since we did not move after all... At least his school bought all the school supplies through PTA and I was not stuck hunting all over town for perfect folders and exact markers. So far, he probably has a more put-together life than we do here.

MIT open course video that 12 y dug up

Since he already started school, I chose to start with 12 yo, 6 yo and 3 yo. But all of my materials are still packed up. And we still might be moving: our house did not grow more space just because the move fell through. The kitchen did not expand, the bedrooms were not added, more children did not move on our block... in short, all the reasons to move are still valid. So I started with whichever resources I happened to have on hand. I'm quickly discovering that if I let 12 yo have a lot of computer time, he will cobble something together. The problem is, without his brother to drag him out to the trampoline, and without classes set up, and without friends popping by, he will not see humans for days. He will not call for a play date (but my 6 yo daughter will!) So do I let this child stay at home and do his own stereotypically nerdy antisocial thing mostly on the computer, or do I set limits, boundaries, force him to go on outings that delight his younger siblings, all in hope of getting him out of the house?

I am also guilty of using him as a babysitter. I do it a lot: he does not want to go to the grocery store, but he will watch the rest of the kids, for example. Often I just want to run an errand by myself, and with all the stress of this "almost move", my need to be by myself is higher than usual. And he is so conveniently at home, and willing to stay at home. I am very conflicted about this. Is it a right thing to do to a 12 yo?

Since all the books are packed up, and I begged boys not to renew their library cards and confirm the addresses till after the move, we have a general lack of reading material. Everyone is listless. 6 yo wants a plan, and all my hopes, dreams, and plans got flushed away, so I swat her inquiries because, frankly, I want a plan, too.

Art supplies are for dumping

Don't forget the baby. She is a firecracker. She screeches on top of her lungs and gets 3 yo involved in yelling competitions. She is not walking (we are starting physical therapy which I need right now like a hole in my head). She is climbing instead, pulling herself up onto the couch and the chairs and the bay window. Then she launches herself down, body-slamming into the cushions. I worry that she will crack her head open. 10 yo worries with me, to the point that he cannot sit still and eat if she's on the couch. It's a good thing that he is in school most of the day, missing her antics. She crawls across our laps as I try to read to 6 yo and 3 yo. She pulls the books out of our hands and has been pulling 3 yo's hair. Thank G-d he's a mellow sweet child, who had not smacked her back. She destroys his puzzle, she dumps the crayons and the drawers full of clothes. When she had her fill of destruction, she heads over to me to be picked up. Then she wants to be carried either by me or by one of the kids. The baby is cute, but she is not easy, and she does not make any of our lives easy either.

12 yo helps make armor.

We have started homeschooling, but I have no idea where this year will take us. I know everyone loves the first day of school pictures, with their promise of new beginnings and order. I bring to you the messy reality. I also hope that those homeschoolers who have not started yet and dread seeing yet another post about organized resources will not feel so bad about hot having it all together.

First day of school.
Typical uniforms.
The boys laughed when they realized what they were wearing.

Time spent on Facebook

I have been on Facebook a lot lately. By "lately", I mean since the baby was born. I spent hours on the couch nursing her, and scrolling and liking things with one thumb was all I had ability to do. She also did not take pacifier, and there was a whole lot of yelling on her part and pacing on mine. Walk up and down the length of the room, baby in a carrier, nowhere as content as 3 yo used to be. I got Baby K'Tan with him and he loved it and slept in it. This girlie just yelled. So I paced and I scrolled. When I wasn't scrolling, I was crying. Truth: it's my fifth baby, and she grew out of it and I knew that it will pass and I was a pro, but she was still yelling, and I was still sobbing. I also got less support with her from my immediate family than I got with any other kids. Facebook was a great distraction.

So I was lost in Facebook wormhole. I could sort of read intelligent articles that my friends posted. I could not watch videos because that requires sound and sound wakes up baby and brings over a swarm of older kids: "What are you watching? I want to see!" I could not comment beyond a monosyllabic answer. I could see what my friends were up to. I could see their kids. I could see their happenings. I unfriended and stopped following a few whose life was artificially perfect. I followed people's political stances. I read their memes.

I was living a virtual life.

Lately, I have been catching myself posting whole monologues in comments on my friends' posts. The baby is almost one, I do not pace her to sleep any more (thank G-d!) I do not have long nursing sessions, so I can type a proper response.

Facebook is an introvert's paradise. You can lurk in conversations without joining in. You can float out as soon as you want. You can type a witty comment minutes, hours, or days after the initial conversation, and it does not seem weird. You can choose whom to talk to. And you can turn it all off.

So I have been wondering lately: why do I spend so much time on Facebook?

I have come to the conclusion that the digital world, no matter how curateded, takes over when the real life does not offer happiness, intellectual stimulation and excitement. I am quite controlled by the schedule of afternoon school pick-up. I am controlled by taekwondo, which is going wonderfully for me and the boys, but it segments our day. I am controlled by 10 yo's tantrums which I frankly want to dissociate from. I am controlled by a baby who leaves a trail of mess in her wake and my inability to pick it up faster than it earns my husband's displeasure. I cannot seem to get to that wonderful state of "flow" when you deeply engage in activity and time stands still. I am always interrupted. I am acutely aware of time at all times: time for baby's nap, time for pick-up, time to put everyone to sleep, time wasted on tantrums. But I can snatch a minute here and there to get on Facebook and see that everyone else can have a life, even if I can't.

Take a deep breath, they say.

This, too, shall pass, they say.

Wait till the youngest is 3, and it will get easier, they say.

It's a stage, they say.

I have been finding myself wishing for time to either freeze, so I can get something done without distractions, or to speed up to the age of independence of the youngest. Time is a gift, yet I cannot value it when my brain feels like scrambled eggs. So I am on Facebook, whiling the time away until it gets to point that time will have meaning.

Do you need help?

-Do you need help?

-No.

-C'mon, nobody does it alone. Why don't you loosen up, let others help you? All your problems stem from being stuck-up and independent. If you would only learn how to accept help from outside, life would be peachy.

-------

-Do you need help?

-Yes.

-(Why doesn't she ask her family first? Can't they help her?)

-------

-Do you need help?

-Yes.

-(Ugh, I was just asking to be polite. I really don't feel like helping. Can't she take a hint?)

-------

-Do you need help?

-Yes.

-What can I do for you?

-(I don't know, look around, don't you see that I am drowning here! Take the kids for an outing, pick up those scattered toys, change the baby's diaper, read a book to them. But maybe she's asking to be polite. Don't ask for too much. Feel her out). Um, nothing. Let me think about it.

-Oh, let me know.

-------

-Do you need any help?

-Yes, can you take the kids out for me?

-You are so hard to help. I was planning on offering this, but you want that. Don't you know how hard it is for me to do this? You cannot be so demanding. You have to be grateful that I am offering to help at all. If you would only accept the help that is being given, all your problems would melt away.

-------

-Do you still need any help?

-Yes. No. Maybe. What can you do for me?

-You are not being specific enough. How am I supposed to know what it is that you need help with?

-------

(She cannot possibly need help. She is all set, married to a doctor. She must be rolling in it. She must have a crew of cleaning ladies and babysitters at the snap of her fingers. I don't want to deal with her reality.)

-------

-Do you need help?

-NO!

What it takes...

My kids are in camp this week, and I got an e-mail with a waiver for my daughter's field trip.

Here is what it takes to print out a waiver:

1. Get onto the desktop the night before the trip. Discover that it is again bugged up with extensions. Curse the day you allowed kids on Tanky/Minecraft. Start task manager to remove the extensions so you can get into e-mail.

2. Find the correct e-mail. Find the attached form which opens in some funny format that you can'r print directly.

3. Download the form.

4.Turn the printer on, so it can start warming up and getting to the print screen.

5. Discover that the printer USB cable is not connected. (The wireless printing ceased working a long time ago. Why? It's a mystery) Plug it in.

6. Select print and see that the computer claims that the printer is offline.

7.Watch as the printer is completely turned off, despite making reassuring noises earlier. All button pressing leads to nothing. Somehow the printer is no longer plugged into the power strip, which is laying tantalizingly out of reach behind the file cabinet.

8. Move the file cabinet, plug in the printer, turn it on.

9. The preview for the file will not load.

10. The printer claims that it is out of paper, despite a stack of paper in the tray. As you pull out the papers to stack them up better, Cuisenaire rods will fall out from the paper slot.

11. Reinsert the paper, and find yet another rod inside. Pick up the printer and shake it out.

12. Save the file as an image.

13. Watch the printer spew out five pages of ads for the lemonade stand that the kids ran last week. Mentally remind yourself to check document queue next time.

14. Husband comes in, wondering what's the matter. Bite his head off over not working computer, printer and darn freaking kids. Watch husband back up, while encouraging you to blog and TAKE YOUR TIME.

on mortality

My grandmother passed away on Monday.

She was 96 years old. She lived on three continents. She raised two children and had six great grandchildren. She survived World War II. She worked as a neonatologist when the survival rates for preemies were dismal. She raised us when my parents had to work. She was always in the kitchen, cooking, or fretting about food. She had recipes which said to "add enough flour for the dough to take it in," and "knead until the texture feels right". She cooked by feel, and she fed from her heart. She spoke up her mind, and it was not PC. She had wonderful stories of studying for exams at a cemetery across the street because her dorm room was too noisy. She was super emotional, drawing people into her emotionality and getting them to feel what she was experiencing.

In her last years, when dementia kicked in, and then slowly her body deteriorated further and further, it was clear where things were going. I was honest with my kids about her condition, but since we do not live near, they did not see her recently. When I told them that she passed away, I had all three older ones run off crying in different rooms. I was unprepared for such an emotional reaction. One child told me that he wished I did not say anything about her passing, ever. Another said that he wishes someone else would die in her place. A third was just crying because everyone else was crying. 2 yo came to sit with us, unsure of what just happened. One boy wanted to go to the funeral. I had to inform him that we will not be going, as I cannot fly with a 3 week old baby. My daughter suggested driving, and I had to tell her that I'm not driving with a 3 week old baby, either.

When we hear about a late term miscarriage, we are sad. When we hear of a child dying young, we are sad. We are sad for the potential that never happened, for the parental hopes and dreams that are crushed.

When we hear of a young adult, we are sad. That person was just starting to live, spreading the wings. They had the whole life in front of them, and are no more.

When we hear of a someone dying in the prime of their life, we are sad. When we hear of someone dying in their middle age, we are sad. There is family to consider, spouses and children, elderly parents.

But even when we hear of someone dying in the deep old age, we are still sad. There are no friends attending the funeral, there are no age mates to reminisce about the deceased. There is comfortable existence of someone who was always there, but now that lull is gone.

We are greedy. We all want to live forever, to save the contemplation of death for another day. We all want all those we know, all those close to us, to be switched for someone else. When death does come, we all want to "do something", so that we can focus on the rituals and avoid thinking about mortality. So we arrange meals, drop off food, help with household tasks.

We are, and then we are no more.

I have been a nervous wreck right before my grandmother passed away. Maybe it was a spiritual connection getting severed, maybe it was the stress of hearing how things are deteriorating and being unable to do anything. Maybe it is being hormonal after the birth of my daughter. The newborn is named after my grandfather. Maybe it is feeling that by naming my daughter after my grandmother's husband I unleashed the memory train. He will not be forgotten; he will live on, so she can go.

With five kids, I have a new worry. It might sound delusional, but in not such distant past, not every child made it to adulthood. Many did not live to have offspring. When you have one or two children, you have the luxury of assuming that this is it; the odds have been beaten, the statistics are in your favor. We in the west believe in 100% baby, 100% of the time. With five kids, the statistical odds of everything being just dandy change. It is plain impossible that nobody will end up in an accident, or be perfect, or just simply be OK. Somebody will have a problem, Somebody will get hurt.

These are not pleasant thoughts. These are not the thoughts that I want to focus on. Yet now, helplessly sitting miles away from a funeral that has to happen because everyone's time to die comes sooner or later, I am flooded with this feeling of time marching on, and life unfolding.

May we know no suffering.

May we experience only simchas (joyous events).

May my grandmother's neshama have an aliyah.

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.

winter break or unschooling?

This week I am not doing formal schoolwork with the kids. 10 yo is on break from mishna, our coop classes are not meeting, and there is no taekwondo. I am sort of calling it a winter break.

However, it is shaping up to be a funny break. 1 yo has been sick, so I have not been getting a whole lot of sleep. I also scrambled all my plans. I arranged this whole outing for today, rallied a whole bunch of people to join me, and then had to cancel and stay home. Now, being shut in with four kids for a whole day, and no set schedule does sound like a recipe for disaster. A smart mom would have a back-up plan, with lessons and TV and other planned activities. A wise mom will play it by ear.

At 7 am, I was greeted with a detailed castle building plan, drawn up by 10 yo. I had to squint to see it, and could not process it without coffee. He was excitedly telling me how he is going to build this castle in Minecraft.

My husband took 10 yo and 4 yo yo shul with him. 8 yo ended up sleeping in till 9 am, which is unusual, but he said that he was up during the night, twice. Maybe the baby kept him up, just like he did to us. Thankfully, since we were not rushing anywhere, it was not a big deal. All the kids had breakfast with daddy, while I got dressed.

Then my husband learned with both boys before work, one at a time. He reviewed Vayigash with 10 yo, and then did three new pesukim with 8 yo. I helped 4 yo with her puzzles, and read to 1 yo his books. His favorite nowadays is "What's in There? All About Before You Were Born" by Robie Harris. He calls it "In there". We took it out of the library, and I do like it, although we do not always get to read each page. 4 yo called he brother a scoundrel, at a very appropriate moment. I guess we do not have to worry about SAT vocabulary prep.

10 yo moved on to designing his castle on graph paper, with detailed designations of which type of Minecraft blocks to use. Then I sent all three older kids out of the house, to play in the back yard. They came in appropriately muddy, with 10 yo carrying his hammer. I was told that there is a whole tool chest back there, mostly made out of sticks and discarded wood.

For lunch, the kids requested frozen Costco blintzes. We ate the whole double package. During lunch, somehow, we ended up discussing parts of speech. 10 yo gave a verb to 8 yo and asked him to add different prefixes and suffixes to it ( no doubt influenced by Lashon HaTorah). Then we switched to taking how some words can function as more than one part of speech, depending on the context. Funny how these things come up.

After lunch, I got started on trying to make a no-sew quilt from fleece squares. Unfortunately, I did not follow the instructions exactly, and 10 yo kept mumbling how if I would only let him use that borrowed sewing machine, he could sew a sleeping bag. I put my foot down, and said that he can sew by hand; I cannot allow him to use that machine. He sulked and told me all sorts of discouraging things about this quilt, which was not exactly turning out. I cut the fringes too short, so I could not tie them together. Meanwhile, 1 yo woke up, so I left this sulking kid to tie up the rest of the test side. It did look horrible.

So I let him go on Minecraft for an hour, He was able to log into his homeschool class, which officially does not start for another week. Then he proceeded to build his castle. An hour later, 8 yo got on, got into his class, read the first week's assignment, and did the quiz. All of that took place without any input from me. And this is the kid who might not test well. I guess when the material is interesting, and he is highly motivated, he can do it. Oh, and it was up to him whether to take that quiz or not. Maybe he does not understand about the stakes of testing. I do not know, but I am finding this to be a very interesting experience.

4 yo took a long piece of fleece, tied it around herself, and made a "baby carrier". Then she tied it in a different fashion, and demonstrated how her doll can be carried while awake, and while asleep. All she asked me to do was to save this piece for her. Then, later, she casually wrapped it around her neck as a scarf.

By this point in the afternoon, I decided it might be ripe time to load everyone in the car and head for a drive. 1 yo was raring to go outside. He is a funny kid: he is not flat out sick, he is still running around, just leaving a trail of snot. His eyes are teary, and he is a bit more subdued and moody than usual, but he does not sit still. We headed to the Museum of Design where boys had a workshop on Sunday, to pick up their 3-D printed creations from Minecraft. On the way over, I found out that the kids thought I went to "some prenatal dancing party" on my day off. I laughed. Mom got her groove! Watch out for that belly! I did tell them what I did, which sounded a whole lot less mysterious.

When we got to the museum, we found out that only 10 yo's sculpture was printed, but not 8 yo's. We were told that it is unusual, as they do not e-mail for pick-up till everything is ready. But there were 3 3-D printers right there in the lobby, with samples of work being printed on them. The boys pulled up chairs and watched the printers for a bit. 4 yo took up a designer challenge: design a chair for an astronaut on board a spaceship out of pipe cleaners. It had to accommodate a bulky spacesuit and work in zero gravity. She sat there, twisting and building, for good 15 minutes, till I pulled her away.

After we came home and had dinner, 8 yo suddenly remembered that my husband assigned him homework: to review ten pesukim. This is the first time I heard of it, but he opened the chumash and did it on his own. 10 yo used scraps of fleece to make himself a slingshot. He used juggling balls, and kept working on his design.

My husband sat 4 yo down and did some parsha with her.

Looking at the whole day, it is hard for me to say that my kids did not put in required 4 1/2 hours of "educational activities" for it not to count as a school day. It certainly did not require planning from me.

So I am at a crossroads: do I embrace unschooling now (with limits on screen time, especially for 10 yo), or do I continue with more traditional subjects until close to baby's arrival? Letting go of control is both liberating and terrifying.

no reason to worry

My daughter is reading. Yes, we have been doing a Bob book here and there (she is on fifth book in the first set, I believe), and yes, I knew that she could sound out first letter of 8 yo's spelling words, and yes, I have been pointing out words that she asked me about. But I did not expect that she is much further along.

My future SIL gave her a set of sticker books for Chanukah. They are pretty simple, with sticker outline in the book and a sticker on a separate piece of paper. However, there are words under the outlines, telling which sticker goes there. I saw that she was reading/guessing some of those. Of course she did not know how to blend two consonants, or "e at the end makes the vowel say its name", but she was motivated enough to try to figure those out. Unfortunately, all of this was taking place in 20 minutes before I had to leave for taekwondo, so we parted in the middle of this activity. I should also mention a certain young man who was busily trying to peel off stickers and rip up the whole exercise. Before today, I spent a fair amount of time beating myself up for not reading those Bob books consistently.

Yesterday, I took three older kids bike riding. 4 yo inherited her brother's bike, which is sort of big. My husband attached training wheels. This was second or third time that she was riding it. She was so not sure of herself at the beginning, with boys zooming right ahead into the park and then returning to hustle us along. She was worried about going too fast. She was worried about not making it up the incline. She kept braking and stopping "to breathe". Considering the size of the park, I almost asked her whether she wanted to put the bike back in the car and simply walk. Yet she persevered. We made it to the playground, and there, after swinging and playing for a few minutes, she got back on her bike, to practice some more.

By the time we were done, she was quite a pro. She even started talking about taking off those training wheels. All of this blossoming of confidence and mastery took place over less than two hours.

1 yo is talking. He was quite a quiet baby, lots of expression, but almost no words for a long time. He got just about everything he wanted by pointing, saying "this", and making incoherent sounds. For a while, he would not imitate words being spoken to him. All my other kids started speaking pretty early or on time, so he was definitely behind. He was constantly being spoken to, and read to, so exposure was not the concern. Yet, over the course of a past month, his vocabulary exploded. I am not even keeping track of how many words he has, but all those words spoken to him are there. He has word combination, idioms, fragments of speech. His speech is purposeful and clear. I have no more reason to worry.

8 yo has been saying "al hanisim" the entire Chanukah. I know it was hard for him, as we read over it together a few times and he was not fluent. I was discussing with my husband how his chumash has not been happening over the course of a past week, but he pointed out that he is clearly working on all this davening. He has been going to shul, saying the entire shemone esre, and participating in shabbos mincha and maariv. The other day, he got to say birchot hashachar for the congregation. He glowed like a million bucks, although he said that it was no big deal. For a child who cannot sit still through long davening, all this hard work is taking place on his terms.

As parents, it is so easy  to look at all those other kids, and worry. It is easy to worry about kids walking, and talking, and reading, and mastering Judaics, and developing middos. It is easy to give up, thinking that kids will never say "please" without prompting, or they will never grasp algebra, or get to gemara, or stop harassing their sibling. Yet, one of the beauties of doing homeschooling ( or just spending so many darn freaking hours) with a child is the slow realization that most of these things will happen in their proper time, on child's terms. My job as a parent is to be a guide, and a support. I do not need to constantly cheer them on, I do not need to bribe or harass them. I do not need to punish them. I do not need to reward them, either. I just need to be present, available for help or consultation as it is solicited.

I need not worry.

staying positive

8 yo is all excited about our trip. As I am tucking him in (all deep and meaningful conversations seem to happen at bedtime), he is telling me how he is planning on bringing one of his stuffed animals on the trip.

8 yo: " I will have to make a warm bed for animals left behind. This one really wants to come with us. It's so cuddly."
Me, distractedly : "If you lose it, it's your responsibility. I will not be looking for stuffed animals that leave home."
8 yo: "Mommy, can't you stay positive? Why do I have to lose it?"

Yes, my dear child, you are absolutely right, I will try to stay positive.

getting creative

It is November. As one of my veteran homeschooling moms reminds me (every year) it is a time for burning out, wanting to throw in a towel, or storm out of the house, get on the first bus to nowhere, and disappear off the face of the earth. It is also a prime time of year to see other people boast about what their kids are accomplishing, and to feel like a total failure.

I am suffering from burnout. I am also suffering from unsaid assumptions that I can take on other responsibilities, and put up with grown-ups behaving like kids. If it wasn't for my brutally honest homeschooling friends, and for some other friends who are willing to put up with my insane mood swings, I would be on that first bus.

I have set a new limit this week: I am off after 2 pm. That means that all the schoolwork that requires mommy's checking or assistance has to be completed by that time. It is probably not the best thing for my kids, for me to be unavailable like that. It is probably another cause of anxiety for 8 yo. But it is a much-needed mental boundary for me. Therefore, now it is 2 pm, 1 yo is still napping, and I can sit down and write a blog while I still feel sane rather than at 10 pm at night.

This new boundary is liberating. I might regret it, and I might not stick with it, but, at the moment, this is what I crave the most.

I love drinking tea and coffee. I allow myself one cup of coffee a day (some days it has to be two, if I don't want to fall asleep while driving). But I drink cups and cups of steaming decaf tea. The sad story of moms and hot drinks is that, often, too much time passes between the time the drink is poured, and mom can actually drink it. And I feel cold, always. Even being pregnant does not warm me up. But coming back to these lukewarm cups of beverage seems to add to misery rather than soothe me. This morning, I poured my tea into an insulated mug. Ah, a moment of inspiration! It has a lid, so the drink stayed warm all while I could casually sip it. I am on my third hot cup, and I am feeling peaceful.

Last summer I got into watercolor painting. I enjoyed it tremendously, and got basic supplies while the kids were in camp. The baby, who was a few months old napped, the kids were at camp, I painted. I also dabble in acrylics, and some pottery painting. The problem, all these lovely hobbies take time and creative energy. All of them are incompatible with an active and demanding toddler. And all of them lose all luster at 10 pm, I am a morning person. That's when I get desire to shake things up, create, give to the world. By the evening time, I am wrung out. I do not want to give, and I do not want to produce. I want a warm blanket on a couch, and a good book.

I found that the longer I went without doing those creative things, the sadder I got. I saw how days went by, but there was nothing that I could show for them. Finally, I just used my babysitter time to go and work on a trivet at a pottery painting place. I happened to pick a pattern which is very heavy on details, so it is taking me multiple sessions to finish it. It is probably not the wisest use of my time, but I am finding that no matter how efficient and productive I am, there is always more to do, and none of that "to do" was going towards my sanity or self-care. Somehow, doing those little curlicues is like a balm. I am not kidding myself into thinking that I am producing a great work of art, but I am relaxing.

What little creative things do you do to boost your mood?

P.S. I am finishing this blog post at 9:30 pm. Sigh...

unexpected

I am expecting.

I am not a fan of such public announcements. There is a part of me where I would want to see you in person and tell you myself, or let you notice my expanding belly and comment on that. But there is a large group of people whom I would want to notify, but we do not live in the same city, and we have not seen each other in years, so they would not know unless I tell them.

I can wait till I have the baby, till it's obvious. But there is something else that I need to share.

We have four kids. Somehow, when you have four kids, people feel that it is their business to ask, right off the bat: "So how many more are you having?" In this scenario, and in a frum world, it is not a surprise to be having another one. People expect it, almost, same way as they expect their unstable relative to ruin the holidays, or for a toddler to throw another tantrum. It's easy to roll your eyes, and twist your finger at the temple afterward.

With each one of my kids, we had good fortune of deciding: "Honey, let's have a baby", and then get pregnant right away. (I will throw it in here that I did have one miscarriage, and I am familiar with the painful, dark place which brings up all sorts of feelings of inadequacy.) But this time it was different. This time, I felt like I am already drowning. This time, I was in the midst of figuring out what to do with 8 yo, school-wise. This time, we were using birth control, and no human error occurred. This time, it was: "Honey, we are having a baby. AHHH!" This time, my logical self demanded another pregnancy test, because it was just too weird. I was not supposed to be getting pregnant at this point in the game.

Why am I confessing to having an unplanned pregnancy? Because 50 % of all pregnancies are unplanned, including married people, including families, including people who already have kids. And the feelings that come with an unplanned pregnancy are very different.

We love smirking at unwed mothers; we love feeling superior to teenagers who somehow managed to get pregnant, and more than once. We love feeling that we, as stable married people, know better. We also love that we do not have to fess up if there is an "accident".

Before anyone goes on a rampage about how all life is precious, and all babies are meant to be, I want to share a little experience. When my daughter was born, I had boys out of diapers for months. It felt good not lugging a diaper bag and a change of clothes everywhere I went. We planned for my daughter, we were thrilled to have her, and I knew by that point what taking care of a newborn looked like. Still, having to go back to elaborate packing routine just to get out to the park after not having to do it for a while felt painful. It felt like a setback. It felt that we were almost at that threshold, and then we took a step back. On this day, we made it out to the park. At that park, somehow, the conversation among mothers turned to some poor woman who discovered that she was pregnant, again, at her postpartum visit. The lady telling the story regaled how she was sobbing her eyes out, and the whole block knew. She finished by saying how one just needs to spend some time with women struggling with infertility to realize what a wonderful blessing it is to have another baby so easily.

I was about 6 weeks postpartum, and I remember thinking: if I found myself pregnant at that point, I would probably sob my eyes out, too. It would be a wonderful world where women suffering from infertility would put their energy and mothering emotions into helping other overwhelmed mothers who just need an hour of sleep, of sanity, of peace. Yet it does not work that way. Once you have too many kids (and that number varies by culture and by place), people look at you and expect you to solve this puzzle all on your own. And those women struggling to conceive will not help out, they will just look at you with jealousy or anger, since you have it so easy.

So let's quit pretending that only unwed mothers end up with unplanned pregnancies. And let's validate emotions of women who do find themselves accidentally pregnant, no matter what are their circumstances.

As for me, I am still taking time processing how this will affect our life. I know exactly what it's like to have two kids two years apart. I also know that it takes about 18 months postpartum to reach the point of trying to plan anything in life which is not directly tied to the baby. It takes another 18 months till those plans can be achieved. The youngest has to be about 3 for a mommy to get her energy and life back. I am recognizing that after my headstrong and curious 1 yo I will not get that space, I will sail straight into another postpartum. I am just getting a smidgen of those grand ideas going now, and I know that all of those will need to be on hold for another 3 years or so. I am making peace with that.

The story of my life is learning to let go of being in control, and being forced to take the journey wherever it might lead me. I often think that I internalized that lesson. Yet, time and again, I find out that I did not absorb it enough. Having an unplanned baby is the ultimate surrender of control.

Credit: http://www.anythinglime.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/heart_hands_pregnant_belly-1024x682.jpg

Unplanned, yet wanted.
Unplanned, yet the kids are overflowing with joy at the news of another sibling.
Unplanned, yet teaching me already some valuable lessons.

The road less traveled... made all the difference.

oh what a day!

There is this book called "The Schmutzy Family". Mama Schmutzy lets her kids do all sorts of creative and messy things, until it comes to Friday, when she notices how dirty the kids are, and they cannot bring in Shabbos like that. So they clean up for Shabbos and it's all sparkling and gleaming (with only two cups of grape juice spilled on the tablecloth). Then on Sunday they discover a mud puddle and Mama Schmutzy, while counting days till next clean Shabbos, dives right in.

I can appreciate her spirit. although I am nowhere near as brave.

The waiters are ready to take an order

This morning, as I was beating myself up for not writing down kids' schedule for the day, I saw how it slowly unfolded into a breakfast restaurant. They dragged in a bedroom lamp, for ambiance. They sat down and wrote a menu. 8 yo and 4 yo were racing in and out of the kitchen, reporting breakfast options to 10 yo. Unfortunately, by the time the menu was ready, I was mostly done with my breakfast, but the kids served each other, even taking orders down on post-it notes. 10 yo was ready to make french toast and pancakes. I might take him up on that tomorrow.

As I looked over the menu, I noticed some misspellings. I told him discreetly to look at appropriate labels and boxes. He fixed those. Then I sent him to the dictionary to fix "medeum". He shortened it to "med". I showed him an e-mail from a sofer that came in that morning through the shul list. It was full of run-on sentences and misspellings (flower instead of flour, whole instead of hole). 10 yo caught a few of those, and looked up the correct spelling. Then he made copies of the menu using printer.

My husband, a pretty conservative guy when it comes to breakfast routine, went with the flow, although he quietly remarked to me how hard it is to be more flexible with the lack of light and funny order of things.

Next "exciting" thing was my daughter slipping on a book that 1 yo dragged out and dumped in the middle of the floor. She slipped, fell over backwards and hit her head and elbow on a hardwood floor. I offered ice cubes. She went to snuggle with her blankie in her bed, a fairly usual response. She even came out to complain that 8 yo is being too loud and disturbing her rest. Next thing I know while working with boys is that she is asleep, at 10:30 am. She never sleeps at this hour. And being sleepy is a sign of concussion. And she did fall pretty hard... I was texting my husband at that point. He told me to wake her up in and hour and watch for nausea and vomiting.

She woke up on her own, but she did not look so hot. Rather, not only she did not look good, she felt very hot. I took her temperature and discovered that her "cold" of the past few days produced a fever. Most likely that was the cause of her falling asleep rather than the fall.

Meanwhile, 10 yo's mishna teacher rescheduled, and taekwondo carpool asked whether I can drop off today instead of picking up. Meanwhile, I was preparing to finish everything by 3 since a friend was doing me a favor and watching the kids so I can take 8 yo to psychologist for his appointment.

I was told this week that I am not used to being flexible and going with the flow. I think if I were any more flexible, I would be tying myself in knots.

This was our fourth visit to the psychologist. He has been pushing medication, both for ADHD and anxiety from day 1. The plan that he collaboratively came up with last week did not go anywhere. Of course, this new approach required half an hour of prep on my end, and one glance and refusal from 8 yo. The psychologist called it a "success" based on the fact that 8 yo is not tantrumming over that issue now. And I kept thinking: for now.

After today's session, when 8 yo did not exactly open up or offer any concrete suggestions on how he is planning to deal with things so that he does not get so upset, and when the psychologist dangled medication yet again, I said that we are trying to get into a different group, this one with both psychiatrists and psychologists on staff. I am not cancelling next appointment, but this guy is starting to veer into behavioral approach "good boy, woof" and I know that does not work on this child.

So I come home, rushing everyone to get taekwondo uniforms on. 8 yo remembers that his belt-tying patch came off in the laundry. I tell him that I had no time to sew it on (we only discovered that it came off this morning). He screams and stomps that he is not going. I still have carpool to pick up, so I am telling him that I have to leave. He is yelling, and I am losing it, as I notice that my daughter is now wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. She is cold. The whole car ride she is telling me how the carseat feels like her bed and she is sleepy. The baby does manage to fall asleep on the way there, but gets woken up by the boys exiting. He is yelling now.

We drive home. My daughter goes straight to her bed. I put the baby down and finally make it to the restroom. When I come out, I find him sitting in the middle of an oily puddle. He got into the pantry and dumped the entire bottle of canola oil. I have friends who bring their toddlers into the bathroom with them. I value my privacy, but this incident made me rethink whether my privacy is more important than my sanity.

swimming in an oily puddle

I carefully tiptoed into the puddle, lifted the oily child and carried him into the bathub, clothes and all. I washed him, first using soap to remove the oil, then using cream to moisturize his sensitive skin, thinking how insane this all is. Then I buckled him into the highchair and surveyed the damage. After using a few paper towels, I realized that time has come to google the best way to clean up a household BP-sized oil spill.

The best way: use sand, kitty litter, oatmeal or salt. Sprinkle generously over the spill, let it soak in, and then sweep away or vacuum. I had half a tub of oatmeal, but it was in the pantry, the entrance to which was blocked by an oil spill. I used up the entire container, then used salt on the spots that still looked slick. The baby was not used to sitting still for so long, so I gave him the empty oatmeal container. He started sprinkling water from his sippy cup into it.

oatmeal soaking up the oil

I tried. I really tried. Yesterday we went to a barbecue. At the end, they were selling leftovers: grilled chicken and hot dogs at very reduced prices. I snatched some up, feeling smug that a dinner will be ready.

Now I had to wade through oil to get to the fridge where the pan with the leftovers sat. I warmed some chicken up for 1 yo, but he would not eat it. He started throwing it on the floor. 4 yo came out from her room. I never checked whether she slept or rested. She just wanted to cuddle. 1 yo wanted out. I wanted this disaster to be over.

I binge-watched Jewish music videos with the kids. While they watched the screen, I started crying.

G-d this is hard. This is so not how I had planned this day. This is so not what I expected to happen. I just wanted to have a warm ready dinner, and relaxed kids because, for once, I was home instead of running to taekwondo. Instead we were sitting around a laptop in an oily kitchen, with cold food in a foil pan, my daughter's hot forehead on my arm while I was holding a squirmy baby.

That's how my husband found us. He got to cleaning up the BP spill. I got to cuddle in bed with my daughter. The boys were dropped off. My husband warmed up dinner. I put 1 yo to sleep. By this point, that barbecue chicken did not look good any more. The boys saved a hot dog for 4 yo, even though she could not eat it.

I sent them all to bed.

Tomorrow 4 yo was supposed to go to her playgroup, and I was supposed to take boys to a Percy Jackson-inspired field trip about Greek mythology. Then they were supposed to go to taekwondo. Instead, 4 yo will be staying home (and hopefully feeling better). The boys might make it to the museum, if my husband can take them. Obama is coming to visit CDC, which is directly on the way to taekwondo, and the traffic will be shut down. So I guess the boys will have to run in the backyard.

I am flexible, I am super-flexible.

What I need to do is to pray more. This is all so much out of my hands...