In the garden
Havdalah, the ceremony that marks the end of the Sabbath, is the separation between the divine and the earthly, the spiritual and the secular, the extraordinary and the ordinary. Life should always be so clear cut. Sharp delineations between Mommy and friend, teacher and student, family time and work time would do so much to reduce a chunk of the stress I experience each day. How nice it would be to say to my kids, I'm working now, so take care of yourselves for a couple of hours, okay? At noon, we'll light a candle, drink some grape juice, sniff some cinnamon, and then we'll play!
Instead, I find myself handing the kids crayons and papers, and half-tuning them out, while I desperately try to make up some lesson plans, or balance my checkbook. Invariably, I am interrupted by persistent calls of, "Mommy, how do you spell 'Daddy'?" or "Mommy, the baby is coloring on the table!"
Sometimes I envy my husband. He leaves the house around 7:00 in the morning, when the kids are barely stirring, and doesn't get home until twelve hours later, when I'm already putting them to bed. For twelve hours, he is free to think, work, and read uninterrupted. He can eat without having three little faces appearing out of nowhere, asking, "What are you eating? Can I have some? Can I have another bite? Can I have a snack? Something to drink?I'm hungry!" I can't remember the last time I sat down to eat something, and was actually allowed to do so.
Then I come to my senses. Each night, my husband comes home drawn, tired, blurry-eyed, and stressed. The amount of reading, researching, and writing he has to do is mind-boggling. Then there are the extra things he has taken on for himself: the law journal, the Jewish Law Students Association, the summer associate job interviews, and the fall externship. He's swamped. And it's wearing him down every bit as much as mommying wears me down. Only, he gets sick, and I get grouchy.
I don't know which is worse.
I started my new job last week. I'm teaching physical education at a religious girls' school. I have to teach in a long skirt and long sleeves, which takes a bit getting used to. I bought a whole wardrobe of "athletic" skirts, whatever that is. Mostly flouncy or stretchy skirts and leggings that will allow me to move freely within the school's strictures of modesty. I have also found a bunch of cheap Target long-sleeved t-shirts. I bought one of each color, and a jaunty cap of cotton jersey. I look the part, now I just have to figure out how to act the part.
I am quite nervous about teaching elementary school P.E. It's been years since I've done it. And it's a tough age: testing limits, expanding independence, raging hormones, and a general dislike of supervised physical activity. I'm having a hard enough time with my own kids, can I do a better job managing someone else's? I sure hope so.
Thankfully, my kids have had a nice, smooth start to their new school year. My oldest has a good class of sweet, smart kids. It shows on his face when he comes home that he's pretty much free of the taunting and bullying he endured last year. My kindergartner is in her element. Her teacher commented on how sweet and smart and well-behaved she has been. Give her time, I thought. Her true self will emerge soon. I expect it won't be long before I get comments about her stubbornness and inflexibility. She's their problem now!
The baby is also thrilled to be in a daily, full-time day care. She misses me, and I'm surprised to hear myself say it, but I'm missing her, too! I guess I got used to our daily rhythms; the snack time, the nap time, when I would put her in bed and sing to her, holding her hand until she drifted off. That's someone else's job now, too.
It's a new and very different year. I'm working, the kids are all at school, and my husband is busier than ever. So much for the first year of law school being the toughest. Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, is a few days away. I'm having a small group of guests for the meals. I'm looking forward to this next division between the old year and the new. We've had a few weeks to get a sense of the things to come, good and bad. Lots of work, and stress, but excitement mingled in there, too. New challenges, new opportunities, and for my children, a new world of learning, friends, and chances to grow, are thrown into the mix. Rosh Hashanah is the perfect divider: some candles, a glass of grape juice, apples and honey, and a fish head. Welcome to 5768.
We marked the divisions between summer and fall, vacation and school, ease and stress our own way last week. I took the kids to a beautiful art exhibit: Niki in the Garden. We had a wonderful time exploring the Garfield Conservatory, and all of the artwork sprinkled liberally throughout.
Instead, I find myself handing the kids crayons and papers, and half-tuning them out, while I desperately try to make up some lesson plans, or balance my checkbook. Invariably, I am interrupted by persistent calls of, "Mommy, how do you spell 'Daddy'?" or "Mommy, the baby is coloring on the table!"
Sometimes I envy my husband. He leaves the house around 7:00 in the morning, when the kids are barely stirring, and doesn't get home until twelve hours later, when I'm already putting them to bed. For twelve hours, he is free to think, work, and read uninterrupted. He can eat without having three little faces appearing out of nowhere, asking, "What are you eating? Can I have some? Can I have another bite? Can I have a snack? Something to drink?I'm hungry!" I can't remember the last time I sat down to eat something, and was actually allowed to do so.
Then I come to my senses. Each night, my husband comes home drawn, tired, blurry-eyed, and stressed. The amount of reading, researching, and writing he has to do is mind-boggling. Then there are the extra things he has taken on for himself: the law journal, the Jewish Law Students Association, the summer associate job interviews, and the fall externship. He's swamped. And it's wearing him down every bit as much as mommying wears me down. Only, he gets sick, and I get grouchy.
I don't know which is worse.
I started my new job last week. I'm teaching physical education at a religious girls' school. I have to teach in a long skirt and long sleeves, which takes a bit getting used to. I bought a whole wardrobe of "athletic" skirts, whatever that is. Mostly flouncy or stretchy skirts and leggings that will allow me to move freely within the school's strictures of modesty. I have also found a bunch of cheap Target long-sleeved t-shirts. I bought one of each color, and a jaunty cap of cotton jersey. I look the part, now I just have to figure out how to act the part.
I am quite nervous about teaching elementary school P.E. It's been years since I've done it. And it's a tough age: testing limits, expanding independence, raging hormones, and a general dislike of supervised physical activity. I'm having a hard enough time with my own kids, can I do a better job managing someone else's? I sure hope so.
Thankfully, my kids have had a nice, smooth start to their new school year. My oldest has a good class of sweet, smart kids. It shows on his face when he comes home that he's pretty much free of the taunting and bullying he endured last year. My kindergartner is in her element. Her teacher commented on how sweet and smart and well-behaved she has been. Give her time, I thought. Her true self will emerge soon. I expect it won't be long before I get comments about her stubbornness and inflexibility. She's their problem now!
The baby is also thrilled to be in a daily, full-time day care. She misses me, and I'm surprised to hear myself say it, but I'm missing her, too! I guess I got used to our daily rhythms; the snack time, the nap time, when I would put her in bed and sing to her, holding her hand until she drifted off. That's someone else's job now, too.
It's a new and very different year. I'm working, the kids are all at school, and my husband is busier than ever. So much for the first year of law school being the toughest. Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, is a few days away. I'm having a small group of guests for the meals. I'm looking forward to this next division between the old year and the new. We've had a few weeks to get a sense of the things to come, good and bad. Lots of work, and stress, but excitement mingled in there, too. New challenges, new opportunities, and for my children, a new world of learning, friends, and chances to grow, are thrown into the mix. Rosh Hashanah is the perfect divider: some candles, a glass of grape juice, apples and honey, and a fish head. Welcome to 5768.
We marked the divisions between summer and fall, vacation and school, ease and stress our own way last week. I took the kids to a beautiful art exhibit: Niki in the Garden. We had a wonderful time exploring the Garfield Conservatory, and all of the artwork sprinkled liberally throughout.
We saw "nanas" frolicking in the ponds,
And we frolicked on elaborate thrones of mosaic tiles, stones, mirrors, and gems, ourselves!
Even the baby got a chance to preside over a court of ferns, succulents, and ivy.
I love taking my children to museums, art galleries, and special exhibits. They find so much joy exploring and discovering a beautiful new world. This one was particularly enchanting.
It was a fairy land of color, light, and texture for the kids to explore with all their senses.
The beauty of this particular exhibit was being able to walk inside and out many of the sculptures, exploring bright, often shocking images,
only to discover their striking elegance up close.
But while I marvelled at the luminescence and iridescence of glass and mirror and tile weaved together in such a musical mosaic melody, my kids just liked climbing,
exploring,
touching,
and sharing.
And after all, isn't that what art is meant to do?
I don't know if Havdalah is an act of art, but it is the one Jewish ritual that really touches all five senses in such a beautiful and meaningful way, awakening us to all that the coming week can signify. It is the sight of the bright flickering flames, breaking through the darkness of Sabbath's end,
the warm glow of the flame,
the sweet taste of the wine,
and the sounds of prayers sung together.
If only our five senses were so actively engaged to such a higher purpose, each and every day. Instead, life takes over and we plod along, day after day, missing out on the blessings we've been granted.
But kids get it.
The year has begun with a bang; a big bang of activity, stress, and excitement. May this be the year God grants me the wisdom and patience to find the spiritual in the mundane, to separate out the beautiful moments, and cherish every moment with all five senses.
posted by law school widow at 8:59 AM
1 Comments:
I often have the same sort of discussion with my husband who is out the door at 5am and comes home around 5:30 when I'm totally spent. His argument is that his davening time and work time isn't alone time, no matter how much I try and convince him that it counts as "alone time" if he gets to do it alone ;-).
What a beautiful art exhibit. Glad your kids enjoyed it. I think the skull would've terrified mine.
Good luck with the new job. I'm sure that with time and firmness the girls will all warm up to you and your program.
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