Love sick
In two days I will be feeding close to a hundred people at the Sephardic synagogue, and nothing terrifies and thrills me more. I love to cook. I thrill to dabble in many different cuisines, constantly experimenting with Mexican, Cuban, Italian, Thai, and occasionally something really exotic like Indonesian or Japanese delights. I'm as amateur a foodie as a kosher vegetarian can get, but cook for 100? That I've never tried, until now.
The timing should have been perfect. My husband just submitted a 45 page draft for the law journal, and has a short reprieve before studying for finals. My mother-in-law just headed back home after a wonderful, but too-short visit. My Chanukah break at work is just around the corner. I squirreled away several hours each day this week solely for the major feat. Yesterday my culinary mentor and I hunted for ingredients at Costco and the kosher market. Today we hit the produce store, piling the basket high with fresh peppers, onions, garlic, squash, potatoes, green beans, and limes. Somewhere between the carrots and garbanzo beans I got a call on my cell phone:
"Your baby has a fever. She's just lying down on her cot right now. Can you come get her?" Of course I can pick her up. Of course I can drop everything in the world to bring love and comfort to my sweet baby. That is the meaning of my life in a nutshell. We finished purchasing the groceries, and I left my friend to bring everything in and unpack the bags. I, leaping tall buildings in a single bound, racing as fast as a speeding bullet (within legal limits, of course), went back to the daycare to get my baby girl.
The moment she saw me, she burst into tears, threw her little hands around my neck, and pressed her hot little face against my cheek. She wished her classmates and teachers a tearful but smiling "Goo bye!" and told me, "I'm too heaby." No, baby, you're not too heavy for mommy. I can carry you." And I did. I carried my toasty toddler, her back pack, an art project or two and her "blan'" up the stairs and into the car.
I rushed her home and spent the remainder of my afternoon curled up in bed with her reading and watching Bob the Builder and Caillou until she finally fell asleep. She thanked me with kisses and the sweetest "Mommy, I love you" I have ever heard. And amidst the love, tenderness, and complete dependence, I selfishly thought to myself, this is the best.
Later that afternoon, my big kids came home on the bus. I struggled to keep them from hugging and kissing and sharing a nasty virus with their baby sister. They clambered over each other to help me out. My son brought tissues, my daughter washed dishes, beaming with pride in her accomplishments. Of course, the moment she turned her back I washed them all again, with the dairy sponge this time. But the effort was greatly appreciated and loudly praised. Big brother did his homework and practiced his piano, while big sister helped out anyway she could. Both went to bed without a fuss. My baby smiled appreciatively, somehow recognizing every one's best behavior was for her benefit. I have never loved my family more.
She is my third child, therefore I no longer panic at the onset of a nasty virus. I have learned to accept the hidden blessings of a sick child: the clinginess, the affection, the siblings on their best behavior, while doing my best to keep her comfortable and hydrated. Thank God it's nothing serious, just enough to bring out the most nurturing aspects of us all. She is growing so fast, my baby. I am preparing myself for the big changes that are coming soon. The preciously mispronounced words spoken correctly. The self awareness and independence. The separation that inevitably takes place as a child recognizes his or her own capabilities, and prepares to be all grown up. It comes way too fast.
Twice now I have watched my babies blossom into beautiful, smart, funny, and independent little people who no longer need to be dressed, bathed, or spoon fed. My heart has broken countless times as my maturing children declare "I don't need you to kiss my boo-boos anymore." Yes, but I still need to kiss them. It's no use trying to explain it to them. They're the ones trying to explain it all to me. I need some explanations, too. Why do I beg for them to outgrow these trying stages only to mourn their passing? How many times have a wished for them to be finished with diapers, only to miss cleaning their little tushies?
Okay, maybe that's a bad example.
I'm not sure what's going to happen tomorrow. Do I try to prepare my lavish feast with a febrile baby in the next room? I feel awful cancelling my physical education classes two days in a row. There are commitments and there are commitments. How much of the world comes to a grinding stop when my baby feels icky? This part doesn't get easier, no matter how many kids I have.
This week should have been perfect timing for me to take on a big challenge, and maybe in a way it still is. My kids are always trying to explain the finer points of life to their obtuse mother, and I have to admit, I need some of their unique insight and wisdom. How, for example, does an over-ambitious busy mom learn to live in the moment? My baby explained it all to me in three words today.
"Mommy, I'm 'shick'."
The timing should have been perfect. My husband just submitted a 45 page draft for the law journal, and has a short reprieve before studying for finals. My mother-in-law just headed back home after a wonderful, but too-short visit. My Chanukah break at work is just around the corner. I squirreled away several hours each day this week solely for the major feat. Yesterday my culinary mentor and I hunted for ingredients at Costco and the kosher market. Today we hit the produce store, piling the basket high with fresh peppers, onions, garlic, squash, potatoes, green beans, and limes. Somewhere between the carrots and garbanzo beans I got a call on my cell phone:
"Your baby has a fever. She's just lying down on her cot right now. Can you come get her?" Of course I can pick her up. Of course I can drop everything in the world to bring love and comfort to my sweet baby. That is the meaning of my life in a nutshell. We finished purchasing the groceries, and I left my friend to bring everything in and unpack the bags. I, leaping tall buildings in a single bound, racing as fast as a speeding bullet (within legal limits, of course), went back to the daycare to get my baby girl.
The moment she saw me, she burst into tears, threw her little hands around my neck, and pressed her hot little face against my cheek. She wished her classmates and teachers a tearful but smiling "Goo bye!" and told me, "I'm too heaby." No, baby, you're not too heavy for mommy. I can carry you." And I did. I carried my toasty toddler, her back pack, an art project or two and her "blan'" up the stairs and into the car.
I rushed her home and spent the remainder of my afternoon curled up in bed with her reading and watching Bob the Builder and Caillou until she finally fell asleep. She thanked me with kisses and the sweetest "Mommy, I love you" I have ever heard. And amidst the love, tenderness, and complete dependence, I selfishly thought to myself, this is the best.
Later that afternoon, my big kids came home on the bus. I struggled to keep them from hugging and kissing and sharing a nasty virus with their baby sister. They clambered over each other to help me out. My son brought tissues, my daughter washed dishes, beaming with pride in her accomplishments. Of course, the moment she turned her back I washed them all again, with the dairy sponge this time. But the effort was greatly appreciated and loudly praised. Big brother did his homework and practiced his piano, while big sister helped out anyway she could. Both went to bed without a fuss. My baby smiled appreciatively, somehow recognizing every one's best behavior was for her benefit. I have never loved my family more.
She is my third child, therefore I no longer panic at the onset of a nasty virus. I have learned to accept the hidden blessings of a sick child: the clinginess, the affection, the siblings on their best behavior, while doing my best to keep her comfortable and hydrated. Thank God it's nothing serious, just enough to bring out the most nurturing aspects of us all. She is growing so fast, my baby. I am preparing myself for the big changes that are coming soon. The preciously mispronounced words spoken correctly. The self awareness and independence. The separation that inevitably takes place as a child recognizes his or her own capabilities, and prepares to be all grown up. It comes way too fast.
Twice now I have watched my babies blossom into beautiful, smart, funny, and independent little people who no longer need to be dressed, bathed, or spoon fed. My heart has broken countless times as my maturing children declare "I don't need you to kiss my boo-boos anymore." Yes, but I still need to kiss them. It's no use trying to explain it to them. They're the ones trying to explain it all to me. I need some explanations, too. Why do I beg for them to outgrow these trying stages only to mourn their passing? How many times have a wished for them to be finished with diapers, only to miss cleaning their little tushies?
Okay, maybe that's a bad example.
I'm not sure what's going to happen tomorrow. Do I try to prepare my lavish feast with a febrile baby in the next room? I feel awful cancelling my physical education classes two days in a row. There are commitments and there are commitments. How much of the world comes to a grinding stop when my baby feels icky? This part doesn't get easier, no matter how many kids I have.
This week should have been perfect timing for me to take on a big challenge, and maybe in a way it still is. My kids are always trying to explain the finer points of life to their obtuse mother, and I have to admit, I need some of their unique insight and wisdom. How, for example, does an over-ambitious busy mom learn to live in the moment? My baby explained it all to me in three words today.
"Mommy, I'm 'shick'."
posted by law school widow at 10:16 PM
2 Comments:
Your attitude is so inspiring. I hope the baby's feeling better.
I'm so impressed that when one of yours is sick the other two behave wonderfully. In my house it's all about "but Mommy . . . " and "don't touch me, you're sick" to whichever sibling is sick.
But I do love how snuggly they are when they're sick.
Here's hoping she feels better really soon, there are some nasty viruses going around.
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