Akiva's wife
There's nothing like a nasty little virus to slow the world down. We had a Shabbat lunch invitation at my son's classmate's house, but Saturday morning, my son woke up with a fever. For the next two days he coughed, sneezed, and was generally miserable. I loaded him up with nana tea and honey, children's Tylenol, and Motrin. This morning, I took him to the doctor. The fever was down and the strep test was negative. There was nothing left to do, but go home, make chicken soup, and force the kid to rest.
As for me, I spent the day cleaning my stovetop and sinks, cooking, and chatting with my sweet boy. The list of "I should haves" and "I could haves" is as long as ever, but the time went by too fast to be productive.
Time, in general, is zooming by. I'm a few months from law school graduation, and a child in the double digits. February is quickly coming to close, quick, even for the shortest month of the year. Spring fashions are hanging tantalizingly on the store racks, and I'm not getting any younger.
On Sunday, I drove to the Western Suburbs with the girls, to drop in on a friend who was there as a scholar-in-residence. I hadn't seen this friend in over twenty years, but I would have recognized him anywhere. He had hardly changed, except for having four children, and a distinguished smattering of gray hairs. Twenty years is just too long.
I have reacquainted myself with hundreds of old friends from twenty years ago and beyond on Facebook. It's a mindboggling and time-sucking invention that has allowed me to revisit the past, see where childhood friends have ended up, and compare our lives. I'm not comparing favorably to my many highly successful peers, but perhaps some wisdom has come with those many years, because I'm okay with it.
No, I'm not a lawyer, a world class musician, an artist, or high tech executive, but I am happy, and in this world, that's a lot. I'm not necessarily content with myself professionally, but that's a different matter entirely.
It's taken me three years of living in Chicago to get to this place of acceptance. I suspect part of it comes from the fact that my husband is in the home stretch, and I don't mind taking some of the credit getting him there. I didn't always make it easy, as in: of course, dear! Go spend the entire week in the library! I'll be fine with the kids, taking care of the apartment, and keeping things in order here! I'll admit I haven't been so malleable. And at times, I'm ashamed to say, I was downright demanding.
I have not been like Rabbi Akiva's wife over these past three years. Then again, I always hated this Jewish story of the great rabbi whose wife sent him away to learn for twelve years while she suffered in poverty raising their children and maintaining their home. Upon his return, he overheard her telling a neighbor that she would be proud if her husband, the great scholar, went away to learn Torah for another twelve years. And so he turned right around and left her on her own for another twelve years.
The story of the Law School Widow goes something like this: three years is enough, and only under the condition that you take out the trash and get the kids out of my hair from time-to-time. An LL.M? Are you nuts?
In three months, if the benevolent lord above be willing, my husband will walk across the stage and accept his diploma. He has worked himself ragged for that piece of parchment. He has put in late nights writing and studying, and researching. He will be at it until the bitter end, and then he will do it some more until he has completed the Bar Exam. Yet, he has juggled his school work with his family life with such caring, sympathy, and sensitivity, that I wonder, why am I so lucky?
Before we embarked on this adventure together, three long years ago, we were often warned that many marriages didn't make it through the grueling demands of law school. We've made it so far, and in some ways, I think this whole experience has made us stronger. It hasn't been easy, and it hasn't always been fun. There have been times when I've been ready to pack up the bags, load the kids in the van, and drive back down to Texas. There have been times when I'm sure my husband wished we would.
It's not over yet. The fat lady hasn't started singing, but we are starting to plan for life post-law school. It's an exhilarating, if not slightly terrifying feeling, especially considering the current economy. And I'm not naive enough to think that graduation is the end of our trials and tribulations. In many ways, the law firm life will be far worse.
But for now, I'm not complaining. After all, it could be a lot worse.
Just ask Rabbi Akiva's wife.
As for me, I spent the day cleaning my stovetop and sinks, cooking, and chatting with my sweet boy. The list of "I should haves" and "I could haves" is as long as ever, but the time went by too fast to be productive.
Time, in general, is zooming by. I'm a few months from law school graduation, and a child in the double digits. February is quickly coming to close, quick, even for the shortest month of the year. Spring fashions are hanging tantalizingly on the store racks, and I'm not getting any younger.
On Sunday, I drove to the Western Suburbs with the girls, to drop in on a friend who was there as a scholar-in-residence. I hadn't seen this friend in over twenty years, but I would have recognized him anywhere. He had hardly changed, except for having four children, and a distinguished smattering of gray hairs. Twenty years is just too long.
I have reacquainted myself with hundreds of old friends from twenty years ago and beyond on Facebook. It's a mindboggling and time-sucking invention that has allowed me to revisit the past, see where childhood friends have ended up, and compare our lives. I'm not comparing favorably to my many highly successful peers, but perhaps some wisdom has come with those many years, because I'm okay with it.
No, I'm not a lawyer, a world class musician, an artist, or high tech executive, but I am happy, and in this world, that's a lot. I'm not necessarily content with myself professionally, but that's a different matter entirely.
It's taken me three years of living in Chicago to get to this place of acceptance. I suspect part of it comes from the fact that my husband is in the home stretch, and I don't mind taking some of the credit getting him there. I didn't always make it easy, as in: of course, dear! Go spend the entire week in the library! I'll be fine with the kids, taking care of the apartment, and keeping things in order here! I'll admit I haven't been so malleable. And at times, I'm ashamed to say, I was downright demanding.
I have not been like Rabbi Akiva's wife over these past three years. Then again, I always hated this Jewish story of the great rabbi whose wife sent him away to learn for twelve years while she suffered in poverty raising their children and maintaining their home. Upon his return, he overheard her telling a neighbor that she would be proud if her husband, the great scholar, went away to learn Torah for another twelve years. And so he turned right around and left her on her own for another twelve years.
The story of the Law School Widow goes something like this: three years is enough, and only under the condition that you take out the trash and get the kids out of my hair from time-to-time. An LL.M? Are you nuts?
In three months, if the benevolent lord above be willing, my husband will walk across the stage and accept his diploma. He has worked himself ragged for that piece of parchment. He has put in late nights writing and studying, and researching. He will be at it until the bitter end, and then he will do it some more until he has completed the Bar Exam. Yet, he has juggled his school work with his family life with such caring, sympathy, and sensitivity, that I wonder, why am I so lucky?
Before we embarked on this adventure together, three long years ago, we were often warned that many marriages didn't make it through the grueling demands of law school. We've made it so far, and in some ways, I think this whole experience has made us stronger. It hasn't been easy, and it hasn't always been fun. There have been times when I've been ready to pack up the bags, load the kids in the van, and drive back down to Texas. There have been times when I'm sure my husband wished we would.
It's not over yet. The fat lady hasn't started singing, but we are starting to plan for life post-law school. It's an exhilarating, if not slightly terrifying feeling, especially considering the current economy. And I'm not naive enough to think that graduation is the end of our trials and tribulations. In many ways, the law firm life will be far worse.
But for now, I'm not complaining. After all, it could be a lot worse.
Just ask Rabbi Akiva's wife.
posted by law school widow at 3:46 PM
1 Comments:
Dear Lord, I hardly think of Akiva as a model husband.
Happy Purim! I'm sure you created your children's costumes again this year from scratch and they were gorgeous. I squeezed my girl into her last-year's monkey suit. She likes monkeys even since she's discovered Curious George. And anyway, we had to leave shul early because she was attempting to hang from the women's balcony railing, so it was a fitting costume after all.
Lots of hugs,
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