I hope you sang that title in Otis Redding's voice. That's what I did when I typed it. And then I googled Otis Redding to make sure it was him. Then I double checked to make sure it was Otis and not Odis. And now you know how I write my blogs.
But on a more serious note, I do feel like a hypocrite. I had to google that word to make sure I was spelling it right too. I'm telling you all this so I can help myself feel a little less hypocritical. Maybe if I show everyone how lame I am, then I can stop pretending to be cool. And now I can hear my sisters' voices, "You thought you were cool? Honey, you didn't have anyone fooled." No, they wouldn't sound like that. That's how my imaginary sitcom TV show sister would sound. My sisters would be more like, 'Aww Stinky, we love you even when you pick your nose and hide the booger on the underside of your chair.' Yeah, that sounds about right.
But here's why I'm writing about hypocrisy: I have been having phone conversations with people who are interested in joining our Farm Shmarm Community. (Hi guys, if you're reading this.) And it's so exciting to talk to people who share my vision. It gets my heart racing. And there is SO much to talk about. I mean, if this works, these are the people who will become my extended family. They will be like aunts and uncles to my children. G-d willing, we will build something amazing that will influence the world in the most amazing way and even grow old together. It's almost like picking a husband. But not. And so, I'm on the phone with them, explaining why I am sooo wholesome, sooo organic, sooo into loving each other and creating a better world. And all the while I'm waving my children away. Shushing them. Telling them to stop putting their books on me, I'm not reading to them right now. And after long enough, they turn against each other in frustration. And when I finally get off the phone (extremely reluctantly) they turn against me. So I yell at them. Yup. I just finished making my good impression. Thinking to myself, 'ooh, did she hear how calmly I handled that angry child?' Well, as soon as the phone is in the receiver and there are no witnesses, the yelling starts.
Of course they are acting out. They probably think that if I had to pick a favorite person in the house it would be my phone. To me, it feels like I barely get to talk. To them, it seems that every moment I ignore them, I am choosing the outside world over family. I am choosing friends over children. I am choosing myself over them. It doesn't matter if it's the electric company or my best friend. All they see is me, a receiver and a 'you better not bother me right now I'm doing something' face. What's the best way to get a parents attention? Is it to feed the cats? Read a book quietly? Make yourself a snack? No way! Do something that will get you trouble. Works every time. It brings those magic words, 'I gotta go.'
And so while I am trying to do my best to portray myself as a great person on the phone to people I hardly know, I am failing to act like a good one to my children. I'm not saying I have no right to talk on the phone when I need or want to. But I do not feel ok sweet-talking them while someone's listening and yelling when they are not. I don't want to be ashamed of who I am when no one's looking. So now, while you're all looking, see me. Yes, I try to hide my boogers on the underside of my chair. Yes, I sound patient on the phone when I yell in privacy. Yes, I pretend to go to the bathroom way more than I have to just so I can be alone and think for five minutes. (Or check facebook. Or watch a youtube video. Or pick my nose some more.) Yes, I flush so they don't suspect me. Once in a while I throw away a recyclable because I am plain lazy. (I feel so embarrassed that I try to hide it even in the garbage can. Like I don't want the garbage men to know.)
I'm not trying to win Woman of the Year award. Well, ok, I kind of am, but I don't even think I was nominated. But I am coming to recognize that it's just too much. It's too much to expect that I can live on my own, and somehow do laundry, dishes, butt wiping, cooking, nap time, nursing, baths, hockey practice, abc's, Torah learning, game playing, music making, exercising, food shopping, yada, yada, yada, and meet my own and my children's emotional needs. It's not ideal. But I am working towards an ideal. I am trying to build a life where it is not up to me to be everyone and everything to my family. And that means I need to take myself out of the race for Woman of the Year, and maybe enter myself in the Good Enough to Not Leave Horrific Emotional Scars and Cut Myself a Little Slack and Maybe Even Cut My Kids a Little Slack Too competition. I bet I could get a nomination for that! I'll start working on my acceptance speech. "I'd like to thank Reality for kicking my ass so hard that I finally made it here today. I couldn't have done it without you! Thank you Mirror, for always being honest. And Kids. Thank you. If it weren't for you guys... Well, if it weren't for you guys, I'd probably have slept a whole lot more. And my boobs would be perkier. (Not tznious, I know, but still kind of funny?) And I'd have a few less wrinkles on my face. But some of those are creases next to my eyes from smiling and laughing. And the stretch marks are fine, because they're mostly on my heart. Lord knows, I'd be a selfish, lazy, irresponsible nobody if it weren't for you. Thanks for making me a somebody. Thanks for making me a mom. I love you guys." Cue music. Tall, fancy lady leads me off stage were my picture is taken and I look fabulous. Dim lights. Aaaaannnnnnd CUT!
1. Our house is finally being sold!!!
2. Being in touch with amazing new people
3. Writing this by the warm fireplace. Mmmm I love that smell
4. Spinach, pepper, onion, tomato, anchovy spelt pizza with mozzarella
5. My ladies night in Pittsburgh. Oooh, I love my ladies
6. Total Eclipse of the Heart Literal Version. Look it up on youtube.
7. A few dishes and I'm DONE for the night!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Hello, Goodbye and Peace
Shalom. In English, that word just looks cheesy to me. As though it is more of an American Jewish Renewal word than a Hebrew one. And yet, I have found it increasingly useful in my day to day life. One Shabbos night, as I was trying to fall asleep, and failing (my increasing insomnia is perhaps another blog for another time), I started repeating the word Shalom over and over with every out breath. A type of meditation to calm my mind. But instead of letting my thoughts flow out with each breath, I was actually focusing more on more on what the heck it means. Why does Shalom mean hello, goodbye and peace. How can it mean all of those things? I'm sure greater minds than mine have pondered the question, but here's what came to me that night:
If in this moment I can embrace, accept, greet whatever is here, and at the same time, release, let go of, say goodbye, to whatever isn't necessary right now, then I have peace. For instance, right now I have exhaustion, cranky kids, and a small headache. I am accepting all that as what is here and not mine to control. I also have anxiety about taking out the kids tonight for hockey practice, guilt over putting the kids in front of the computer so I can take this moment to rest, and a house that could really use a good cleaning. I am letting all that go right now. That is not necessary in this moment. And so, I have Shalom. Peace. In this moment. But of course, in the next moment I will worry about dinner and so on. But Shalom is about this moment. And when the next moment comes, it will be that moment's turn for hellos, goodbyes and G-d willing, more peace.
It's constant. And exhausting in it's own way. But I know that if I somehow can keep it as a mindful practice, than it will be less effort and more natural.
My life in the last 24 hours has felt like a roller coaster. There was trying to pack and leave my house with three kids. Getting to Pittsburgh. The joy, and pain, of seeing friends that I love and miss terribly. Leaving my kids with my incredibly supportive in-laws so that I could finally have a night out. It has been a VERY long time. A few of my girlfriends got together (I had sent them one of my sos's saying I was in dire need of some good ole fashioned girl love) and boy did they spoil me! I felt so loved. So cared for. I reached out, they reached back, and that felt soooo good. Then I saw my husband and, through a miscommunication turned argument, all that flying high, crash landed me into the dirt. It's amazing how a full night of love and friendship can instantly evaporate through one bad argument.
When I got back to my in-laws I crawled in bed with my son and tried to pass out. Listening to his little murmurs (even at age seven the sounds of sleep are so beautiful) and feeling him stir, I put my arms around my child and felt peaceful again. I felt the love of my friends surround me again. In being able to love my child I was able to open up to the love going in and out of my heart. So in that moment I said hello to my heart full of love and let go of the pain of a few moments anger.
But the rollercoaster went around another bend and I didn't sleep at all. Those sweet sounds and twitches became a knife's edge bursting my dream bubbles. No sleep.
Morning came way to soon and somehow I managed to get all kids into the car by 9:30 without too much hassle. We all went potty, had our snacks and were on the road.
Fifteen minutes in, I'm chatting on the phone with my dad when I hear the dreaded words, "Mama, I have to poop." Everything crashed again. Ready to explode with unnecessary words like, "But I sat you on the potty fifteen minutes ago! Why didn't you go then?! What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have any idea what it means for me to go into a gas station with three sleepy, pajama'ed kids and then get you all back into the car?!!!" No, she doesn't. She is three years old.
Lucky for me, before I could say any of those things, my father, still on the phone, said, "Tovah, surrender. There's nothing you can do." Shalom. There it was. Her needing to use the bathroom was out of my control. Hello three kids in the bathroom. Goodbye anger, annoyance, frustration. Hello standing in the freezing parking lot waiting for seven year old to change into pants to avoid embarrassment. Goodbye personal embarrassment at standing in the parking lot with two messy kids in not warm enough pajamas, waiting for their brother. Hello funny looks from all who watched my gleeful daughter run through the gas station store in feeties and boots. Goodbye apologetic look on my face to the spectacle that my family was in that moment. Hello taking turns holding the baby so we could all go just one more time. Goodbye to the anger at how long it took my daughter to actually poop. Shalom.
I was even able to fill up my tank, wash my windows, check my oil, and add a quart of it without a funnel. I was beginning to feel like a superstar. Driving down the highway, my husband even calls and we make amends. The youngest two are asleep almost the whole ride. The big boy reads himself chapter books in the back seat. I am Shalom Mama Rockstar!
And then we get home. My son instantly throws a full blown fit at having to clean his mess in the backseat. My baby wants chips so that he can throw them on the floor. My daughter wants all the toys in purses and hoarded away. The laundry is waiting. There's no dinner. Hockey practice is in a few hours. All the coffee in the world couldn't take away the fog in my brain.
I want to cry! They already got screen time this morning when they woke up at my in-laws. They even got to watch a movie last night. A good mom should tell them to go play while she rests. But the only way I know to get my kids off my back is to bribe them with more screen time. But only a bad mom would reward her son's tantrums with a movie. Only a bad mom would put her own rest above teaching her children proper lessons.
But in this moment, Hello to a hard life. Hello to being out here where I can't call my friends to take my kids for a few hours. Hello to the choice of losing it and showing my children impatience, anger, and meanness if even lightly triggered versus putting them in front of the computer and taking this time to take care of me, and showing them self-compassion. Hello to taking this good advice from my wise sister. Goodbye to self judgement. Goodbye to good mom versus bad mom. (Hello real life mom.) Goodbye to afternoon of fighting and yelling and pleading and crying and punishing. Hello to happy-ish kids and a more rested mama. Shalom.
And now we're back here in this moment. And it's a good moment. A peaceful moment. Shalom.
1. Aunt Faith and Uncle Chainsaw for being most kickass siblings in-law last night
2. Savta and Daddy Mike too
3. A night of love with my girls
4. Shalom moments
If in this moment I can embrace, accept, greet whatever is here, and at the same time, release, let go of, say goodbye, to whatever isn't necessary right now, then I have peace. For instance, right now I have exhaustion, cranky kids, and a small headache. I am accepting all that as what is here and not mine to control. I also have anxiety about taking out the kids tonight for hockey practice, guilt over putting the kids in front of the computer so I can take this moment to rest, and a house that could really use a good cleaning. I am letting all that go right now. That is not necessary in this moment. And so, I have Shalom. Peace. In this moment. But of course, in the next moment I will worry about dinner and so on. But Shalom is about this moment. And when the next moment comes, it will be that moment's turn for hellos, goodbyes and G-d willing, more peace.
It's constant. And exhausting in it's own way. But I know that if I somehow can keep it as a mindful practice, than it will be less effort and more natural.
My life in the last 24 hours has felt like a roller coaster. There was trying to pack and leave my house with three kids. Getting to Pittsburgh. The joy, and pain, of seeing friends that I love and miss terribly. Leaving my kids with my incredibly supportive in-laws so that I could finally have a night out. It has been a VERY long time. A few of my girlfriends got together (I had sent them one of my sos's saying I was in dire need of some good ole fashioned girl love) and boy did they spoil me! I felt so loved. So cared for. I reached out, they reached back, and that felt soooo good. Then I saw my husband and, through a miscommunication turned argument, all that flying high, crash landed me into the dirt. It's amazing how a full night of love and friendship can instantly evaporate through one bad argument.
When I got back to my in-laws I crawled in bed with my son and tried to pass out. Listening to his little murmurs (even at age seven the sounds of sleep are so beautiful) and feeling him stir, I put my arms around my child and felt peaceful again. I felt the love of my friends surround me again. In being able to love my child I was able to open up to the love going in and out of my heart. So in that moment I said hello to my heart full of love and let go of the pain of a few moments anger.
But the rollercoaster went around another bend and I didn't sleep at all. Those sweet sounds and twitches became a knife's edge bursting my dream bubbles. No sleep.
Morning came way to soon and somehow I managed to get all kids into the car by 9:30 without too much hassle. We all went potty, had our snacks and were on the road.
Fifteen minutes in, I'm chatting on the phone with my dad when I hear the dreaded words, "Mama, I have to poop." Everything crashed again. Ready to explode with unnecessary words like, "But I sat you on the potty fifteen minutes ago! Why didn't you go then?! What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have any idea what it means for me to go into a gas station with three sleepy, pajama'ed kids and then get you all back into the car?!!!" No, she doesn't. She is three years old.
Lucky for me, before I could say any of those things, my father, still on the phone, said, "Tovah, surrender. There's nothing you can do." Shalom. There it was. Her needing to use the bathroom was out of my control. Hello three kids in the bathroom. Goodbye anger, annoyance, frustration. Hello standing in the freezing parking lot waiting for seven year old to change into pants to avoid embarrassment. Goodbye personal embarrassment at standing in the parking lot with two messy kids in not warm enough pajamas, waiting for their brother. Hello funny looks from all who watched my gleeful daughter run through the gas station store in feeties and boots. Goodbye apologetic look on my face to the spectacle that my family was in that moment. Hello taking turns holding the baby so we could all go just one more time. Goodbye to the anger at how long it took my daughter to actually poop. Shalom.
I was even able to fill up my tank, wash my windows, check my oil, and add a quart of it without a funnel. I was beginning to feel like a superstar. Driving down the highway, my husband even calls and we make amends. The youngest two are asleep almost the whole ride. The big boy reads himself chapter books in the back seat. I am Shalom Mama Rockstar!
And then we get home. My son instantly throws a full blown fit at having to clean his mess in the backseat. My baby wants chips so that he can throw them on the floor. My daughter wants all the toys in purses and hoarded away. The laundry is waiting. There's no dinner. Hockey practice is in a few hours. All the coffee in the world couldn't take away the fog in my brain.
I want to cry! They already got screen time this morning when they woke up at my in-laws. They even got to watch a movie last night. A good mom should tell them to go play while she rests. But the only way I know to get my kids off my back is to bribe them with more screen time. But only a bad mom would reward her son's tantrums with a movie. Only a bad mom would put her own rest above teaching her children proper lessons.
But in this moment, Hello to a hard life. Hello to being out here where I can't call my friends to take my kids for a few hours. Hello to the choice of losing it and showing my children impatience, anger, and meanness if even lightly triggered versus putting them in front of the computer and taking this time to take care of me, and showing them self-compassion. Hello to taking this good advice from my wise sister. Goodbye to self judgement. Goodbye to good mom versus bad mom. (Hello real life mom.) Goodbye to afternoon of fighting and yelling and pleading and crying and punishing. Hello to happy-ish kids and a more rested mama. Shalom.
And now we're back here in this moment. And it's a good moment. A peaceful moment. Shalom.
1. Aunt Faith and Uncle Chainsaw for being most kickass siblings in-law last night
2. Savta and Daddy Mike too
3. A night of love with my girls
4. Shalom moments
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Does G-d Have an English Accent?
Me: Argh!
G-d: Yes dear?
M: Well, I thought that writing this blog, writing these conversations with You is the right thing to do.
G: And now you doubt that because...
M: Because my crappy old laptop, which has so generously been fixed, twice, won't hold a damn charge and keeps turning off. The charging cord is broken.
G: I see. So if something is difficult or frustrating, then it is no longer My will. Is that correct?
M: Well, yeah. If You wanted me to write this, wouldn't You give me a leg up or something?
G: If you want your children to eat, do you spoon feed them, no matter their age?
M: Are you saying that You're challenging me on purpose?
G: I don't think you heard me right. I simply let life progress naturally.
M: Right. And when You flooded the earth, that was natural. And when You spoke to Abraham, Isaak, Jacob, that was natural. When You carved out the ten commandments and handed them to Moshe, that was natural. When You-
G: A different time. A different way. You cannot keep comparing me to the way others knew me. You must know Me as I am today.
M: But I thought You were an Eternal G-d.
G: Yes.
M: And yet You change. Like in a thousand years.
G: No. But you do.
M: Me?
G: No. Humanity.
M: Oh. You know, this isn't really the conversation I had planned on us having.
G: Do you do that often? Plan conversations?
M: All the time. Most phone calls. Discussions with my husband. Visits with friends...
G: And how does that work out for you? Do they follow your script?
M: No. And it's frustrating as hell when they don't. Which is a good reason to have my own blog. I get to write the conversation. And yet, this isn't the one I was hoping to have.
G: And what conversation were you hoping to have?
M: The one where I talk about the difference in belief in You as a social religion that benefits (or harms) humanity vs. You actually existing and manifesting Your will.
G: And what were My lines?
M: Well, that's the problem. I was kind of hoping they would get written as I wrote them, You know?
G: No, tell me.
M: Well, I kind of plan what I want to blog about. But then other stuff starts coming out and I get to learn about myself and the way my mind works, and the way my heart works and I feel good when it's finished. Surprised usually. So, I was going to start that conversation and then let the rest get written as I wrote it. Does that make sense?
G: Well let's just write it out then, shall we?
M: I can't. I'm not in that zone anymore.
G: Well, then, what should we write about?
M: Well for starters, we could talk about why Your voice is coming out with an English accent.
G: Is it? Perhaps listening to Peter Rabbit read by Emma Thompson over and over in the car has something to do with that.
M: Yeah. Or that episode of Downton Abbey I watched last night.
G: Is it good? I hear it's quite addictive.
M: See? There it is. Quite. That sentence only makes sense when You have an English accent.
G: Well, perhaps it's like a font you can change. Why not change it?
M: To what?
G: What would you like G-d to sound like?
M: That's not a question I've ever thought of. And I'm kind of stumped. I'm definitely not going the Alanis Morissette route. And the whole Morgan Freeman thing is way over done. In fact, I don't think I want You to sound like anyone famous.
G: So, what would you like me to sound like?
M: ...
G: This is hard for you.
M: Yeah. It is. Why?
G: Because you want me to be more concrete. You want me to be an absolute. Not something that changes according to your will.
M: Because if I have that much control over how I imagine G-d, doesn't that undermine His Absoluteness? Because doesn't that just prove that I'm alone and everything that happens to me is simply a natural consequence of my choices, small and large? That there is no Divine Will guiding my life, leading me? Because I could truly be in control of my life and make all the wrong decisions?
G: So for you it's either/or. Either you are in charge of your life, or I am. Either you are making choices that ultimately decide your fate, or I am guiding you where you need to be. Is that right?
M: Isn't it?
G: Well, what if they're both true. How good are you at holding paradoxes?
M: I used to think I was good, but I'm not sure I'm going to like this one. But try me.
G: Well, what if everything you did had a natural outcome. Or consequence, as you put it. Which to Me implies that you hold many doubts about your own wisdom. But I digress. What if I let the world follow it's natural progression and it still followed a design. What if My will is inherently designed in the fabric of this world and no outcome, though the outcomes are varied, can digress from the overall design? Imagine you are playing music and your child comes in and starts banging away at the keys with you. What if all the keys were tuned so that no matter what note they hit, or even if they hit them all at once, it still harmonized with your original tune? Can you imagine that?
M: Then I would have to say that You are the worst song writer ever. How could You write the holocaust, the crusades, the inquisition, Justin Beiber, CAFOs, GMO's, and cancer, among many other things, into Your song?
G: But you misunderstand me. That is the child who hits all the notes. And yes, they all harmonize and play together, but that does not mean that it sounds pleasant to hear them played that way.
M: So, You make the instrument, which only contains certain sounds, but we write the songs with our choices, and that's our soundtrack? Your instrument, our song?
G: Simplified. But yes.
M: I still don't understand how it can be our choices and Your will.
G: Then you can join the rest of the human race. Why do you think I created Faith?
M: My sister-in-law?
G: No. Belief in Me and My ways. Without understanding or proof.
M: Well then I'm back to the question, what's more important, that You exist, or that I believe that You exist?
G: Isn't it getting a bit late?
M: Aren't You getting a bit of an English accent again?
G: Goodnight Tovah.
M: And a goodnight to Thee.
1. My kids are asleep
2. Fire in the fireplace
3. My awesome in-laws
4. Discovering Alec Baldwin's NPR show
5. Early enough to still get a shower without going to bed at midnight
6. Got to see some Pitt friends today and it was so nice!
G-d: Yes dear?
M: Well, I thought that writing this blog, writing these conversations with You is the right thing to do.
G: And now you doubt that because...
M: Because my crappy old laptop, which has so generously been fixed, twice, won't hold a damn charge and keeps turning off. The charging cord is broken.
G: I see. So if something is difficult or frustrating, then it is no longer My will. Is that correct?
M: Well, yeah. If You wanted me to write this, wouldn't You give me a leg up or something?
G: If you want your children to eat, do you spoon feed them, no matter their age?
M: Are you saying that You're challenging me on purpose?
G: I don't think you heard me right. I simply let life progress naturally.
M: Right. And when You flooded the earth, that was natural. And when You spoke to Abraham, Isaak, Jacob, that was natural. When You carved out the ten commandments and handed them to Moshe, that was natural. When You-
G: A different time. A different way. You cannot keep comparing me to the way others knew me. You must know Me as I am today.
M: But I thought You were an Eternal G-d.
G: Yes.
M: And yet You change. Like in a thousand years.
G: No. But you do.
M: Me?
G: No. Humanity.
M: Oh. You know, this isn't really the conversation I had planned on us having.
G: Do you do that often? Plan conversations?
M: All the time. Most phone calls. Discussions with my husband. Visits with friends...
G: And how does that work out for you? Do they follow your script?
M: No. And it's frustrating as hell when they don't. Which is a good reason to have my own blog. I get to write the conversation. And yet, this isn't the one I was hoping to have.
G: And what conversation were you hoping to have?
M: The one where I talk about the difference in belief in You as a social religion that benefits (or harms) humanity vs. You actually existing and manifesting Your will.
G: And what were My lines?
M: Well, that's the problem. I was kind of hoping they would get written as I wrote them, You know?
G: No, tell me.
M: Well, I kind of plan what I want to blog about. But then other stuff starts coming out and I get to learn about myself and the way my mind works, and the way my heart works and I feel good when it's finished. Surprised usually. So, I was going to start that conversation and then let the rest get written as I wrote it. Does that make sense?
G: Well let's just write it out then, shall we?
M: I can't. I'm not in that zone anymore.
G: Well, then, what should we write about?
M: Well for starters, we could talk about why Your voice is coming out with an English accent.
G: Is it? Perhaps listening to Peter Rabbit read by Emma Thompson over and over in the car has something to do with that.
M: Yeah. Or that episode of Downton Abbey I watched last night.
G: Is it good? I hear it's quite addictive.
M: See? There it is. Quite. That sentence only makes sense when You have an English accent.
G: Well, perhaps it's like a font you can change. Why not change it?
M: To what?
G: What would you like G-d to sound like?
M: That's not a question I've ever thought of. And I'm kind of stumped. I'm definitely not going the Alanis Morissette route. And the whole Morgan Freeman thing is way over done. In fact, I don't think I want You to sound like anyone famous.
G: So, what would you like me to sound like?
M: ...
G: This is hard for you.
M: Yeah. It is. Why?
G: Because you want me to be more concrete. You want me to be an absolute. Not something that changes according to your will.
M: Because if I have that much control over how I imagine G-d, doesn't that undermine His Absoluteness? Because doesn't that just prove that I'm alone and everything that happens to me is simply a natural consequence of my choices, small and large? That there is no Divine Will guiding my life, leading me? Because I could truly be in control of my life and make all the wrong decisions?
G: So for you it's either/or. Either you are in charge of your life, or I am. Either you are making choices that ultimately decide your fate, or I am guiding you where you need to be. Is that right?
M: Isn't it?
G: Well, what if they're both true. How good are you at holding paradoxes?
M: I used to think I was good, but I'm not sure I'm going to like this one. But try me.
G: Well, what if everything you did had a natural outcome. Or consequence, as you put it. Which to Me implies that you hold many doubts about your own wisdom. But I digress. What if I let the world follow it's natural progression and it still followed a design. What if My will is inherently designed in the fabric of this world and no outcome, though the outcomes are varied, can digress from the overall design? Imagine you are playing music and your child comes in and starts banging away at the keys with you. What if all the keys were tuned so that no matter what note they hit, or even if they hit them all at once, it still harmonized with your original tune? Can you imagine that?
M: Then I would have to say that You are the worst song writer ever. How could You write the holocaust, the crusades, the inquisition, Justin Beiber, CAFOs, GMO's, and cancer, among many other things, into Your song?
G: But you misunderstand me. That is the child who hits all the notes. And yes, they all harmonize and play together, but that does not mean that it sounds pleasant to hear them played that way.
M: So, You make the instrument, which only contains certain sounds, but we write the songs with our choices, and that's our soundtrack? Your instrument, our song?
G: Simplified. But yes.
M: I still don't understand how it can be our choices and Your will.
G: Then you can join the rest of the human race. Why do you think I created Faith?
M: My sister-in-law?
G: No. Belief in Me and My ways. Without understanding or proof.
M: Well then I'm back to the question, what's more important, that You exist, or that I believe that You exist?
G: Isn't it getting a bit late?
M: Aren't You getting a bit of an English accent again?
G: Goodnight Tovah.
M: And a goodnight to Thee.
1. My kids are asleep
2. Fire in the fireplace
3. My awesome in-laws
4. Discovering Alec Baldwin's NPR show
5. Early enough to still get a shower without going to bed at midnight
6. Got to see some Pitt friends today and it was so nice!
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Texting With G-d Just Got Real
Me: In this moment I don't know who I hate more: You or me.
G-d: Bad day?
M: Aren't I committing some terrible sin by saying that I hate You? Aren't I going to be punished?
G: Who said hating Me is wrong? I am more concerned that you hate yourself right now.
M: Well You should hate me too after seeing how awful I handled bedtime tonight.
G: I saw. It wasn't one of your finest moments.
M: G-d, my throat hurts from yelling at my children. That is wrong. That is bad. I am bad.
G: That's a lot of judgement I just heard.
M: Well aren't You judging me? Aren't You always judging us all? Weighing the scales of our deeds and all that?
G: It's true that I see everything. But that means that I see EVERYTHING. I saw you get up over and over to take of your baby, night after night. I saw your adrenaline glands almost empty and your oxytocin levels drop. I saw that despite all that you took your kids to the library so they could see the puppet show. I saw how badly you just wanted to stay in bed. But you didn't. You took them. And then when your friend showed up and you wanted to stay and talk, I saw you load your children in the car because they said they were hungry and you knew they needed their naps. I saw you feed them lunch and give them seconds before you could have firsts, simply because they asked for more. And then, when lunch was all gone, I saw you eat pb&j on a rice cake, because they finished everything else. I saw you help your son with his homework when all you wanted to do was collapse in bed for a nap. I saw you make a healthy, nutritious and delicious dinner, when you could have warmed up some pasta. I saw you put on a rated G movie for your kids when there are 10 movies that you have been waiting months to see, but aren't as appropriate. I saw you tuck them all in bed and sing with them. And then I watched as they got out of bed over and over, when you were just trying to clean up the kitchen so you could get started on making Shabbos. I saw them resist sleep for three hours, while you tried everything from pleading, to bribing to threatening, and only then to yelling. I saw you watch your entire evening's productivity go down the the drain, and your work load for tomorrow grow. I watched as, when it was all over, and you were so distraught, and yet still angry, you sat down and held your son's head as he fell asleep because you knew he needed your touch. You knew there was a hole in him that would've stayed a wound if he couldn't have that touch. And through all you anger, exhaustion and resentment, you reached out and held him. I saw everything.
M: I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I'm scared of forgiving myself and loving myself the way You love me.
G: Why is that?
M: I don't know. Maybe if I'm worthy of all that love, maybe I'll need to live my life differently.
G: How so?
M: I don't know. It seems such a high place to fall from.
G: But how soft is the catch when you fall into loving arms...
M: But what happens when I forgive me, but others don't?
G: Yes, what does happen then?
M: I don't know. I'll be self righteous... Or alienated. Or wrong.
G: Being wrong is scary for you, isn't it?
M: Being wrong is like falling off a cliff.
G: But when forgiveness is what you fall into...
M: Not everyone will forgive me for being wrong.
G: No, but I will. And you can forgive yourself.
M: And then I'm on that high horse again.
G: Do you really think that loving yourself and forgiving yourself puts you above everyone? I imagine that you might start to forgive others their faults and perhaps love them in their entirety. That's not very snobbish. Or very flaky. It's grounded and real.
M: So, if I love myself after being crazy bitch mom from hell, then maybe I will love my kids even when they are annoying little brats? And if they know they are loved even though they are acting out, then maybe they will love and accept others who aren't perfect? And then imperfection will be accepted and perhaps even made into unique strengths and no longer will we all act like sheep and do as society tells us but we will love each other and ourselves and make this world a better place?
G: Um, yeah. Only with a few more steps between A and Z. But We'll get there. Now how about doing a few of those dishes so that tomorrow you don't act like that, how did you put it so eloquently? Oh yeah, that crazy bitch mom from hell, when you're rushing to get ready for Shabbos.
M: Okay. Good plan. Um, G-d?
G: Yes Tovah?
M: Thanks.
G: You're welcome.
G-d: Bad day?
M: Aren't I committing some terrible sin by saying that I hate You? Aren't I going to be punished?
G: Who said hating Me is wrong? I am more concerned that you hate yourself right now.
M: Well You should hate me too after seeing how awful I handled bedtime tonight.
G: I saw. It wasn't one of your finest moments.
M: G-d, my throat hurts from yelling at my children. That is wrong. That is bad. I am bad.
G: That's a lot of judgement I just heard.
M: Well aren't You judging me? Aren't You always judging us all? Weighing the scales of our deeds and all that?
G: It's true that I see everything. But that means that I see EVERYTHING. I saw you get up over and over to take of your baby, night after night. I saw your adrenaline glands almost empty and your oxytocin levels drop. I saw that despite all that you took your kids to the library so they could see the puppet show. I saw how badly you just wanted to stay in bed. But you didn't. You took them. And then when your friend showed up and you wanted to stay and talk, I saw you load your children in the car because they said they were hungry and you knew they needed their naps. I saw you feed them lunch and give them seconds before you could have firsts, simply because they asked for more. And then, when lunch was all gone, I saw you eat pb&j on a rice cake, because they finished everything else. I saw you help your son with his homework when all you wanted to do was collapse in bed for a nap. I saw you make a healthy, nutritious and delicious dinner, when you could have warmed up some pasta. I saw you put on a rated G movie for your kids when there are 10 movies that you have been waiting months to see, but aren't as appropriate. I saw you tuck them all in bed and sing with them. And then I watched as they got out of bed over and over, when you were just trying to clean up the kitchen so you could get started on making Shabbos. I saw them resist sleep for three hours, while you tried everything from pleading, to bribing to threatening, and only then to yelling. I saw you watch your entire evening's productivity go down the the drain, and your work load for tomorrow grow. I watched as, when it was all over, and you were so distraught, and yet still angry, you sat down and held your son's head as he fell asleep because you knew he needed your touch. You knew there was a hole in him that would've stayed a wound if he couldn't have that touch. And through all you anger, exhaustion and resentment, you reached out and held him. I saw everything.
M: I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I'm scared of forgiving myself and loving myself the way You love me.
G: Why is that?
M: I don't know. Maybe if I'm worthy of all that love, maybe I'll need to live my life differently.
G: How so?
M: I don't know. It seems such a high place to fall from.
G: But how soft is the catch when you fall into loving arms...
M: But what happens when I forgive me, but others don't?
G: Yes, what does happen then?
M: I don't know. I'll be self righteous... Or alienated. Or wrong.
G: Being wrong is scary for you, isn't it?
M: Being wrong is like falling off a cliff.
G: But when forgiveness is what you fall into...
M: Not everyone will forgive me for being wrong.
G: No, but I will. And you can forgive yourself.
M: And then I'm on that high horse again.
G: Do you really think that loving yourself and forgiving yourself puts you above everyone? I imagine that you might start to forgive others their faults and perhaps love them in their entirety. That's not very snobbish. Or very flaky. It's grounded and real.
M: So, if I love myself after being crazy bitch mom from hell, then maybe I will love my kids even when they are annoying little brats? And if they know they are loved even though they are acting out, then maybe they will love and accept others who aren't perfect? And then imperfection will be accepted and perhaps even made into unique strengths and no longer will we all act like sheep and do as society tells us but we will love each other and ourselves and make this world a better place?
G: Um, yeah. Only with a few more steps between A and Z. But We'll get there. Now how about doing a few of those dishes so that tomorrow you don't act like that, how did you put it so eloquently? Oh yeah, that crazy bitch mom from hell, when you're rushing to get ready for Shabbos.
M: Okay. Good plan. Um, G-d?
G: Yes Tovah?
M: Thanks.
G: You're welcome.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
If I Were Texting With G-d, It Would Probably Look Like This...
After being awakened by my little man, 17 months old, several times last, I resumed my nightly conversation with G-d. Since the sale of my house fell through, right before I go to bed, I spend fifteen minutes speaking to G-d. Expressing gratitude, asking for things, or just telling G-d about my day. But after waking up over and over last night to take care of the babe, who was stuffy and cranky, I resumed my conversation. But since I was delirious with lack of sleep, I played out G-d's end of the conversation too. It went something like this:
Me: Seriously? Again? What The Heck, G-d?
G: Yes?
M: Do You hate me or something? Why won't You let me sleep?
G: I'm not keeping you from sleeping, your baby is.
M: Yeah, but You're G-d. And nothing happens that You don't will into being. So how 'bout willing some sleep into my life?
G: And how would you like me to do that?
M: I don't know. Go to my son and put him back to sleep for me. And then keep him asleep for the rest of the night.
G: You want me to intervene with nature?
M: Uh, yeah. You used to do it all the time. Remember? Splitting the Red Sea, Clouds of Glory, oil lasting for eight days. Even two hundred years ago You had these Rebbes who could see the future and fly in their carriages. So, how about a little miracle being sent my way?
G: You don't live in a time of revealed miracles. You live in a time of Faith.
M: Well, I'm sorry to tell Ya, but I'm kinda running low on the stuff. Have you turned on the news lately? You're not exactly batting a thousand down here. Murder of innocents, endless wars, Sponge Bob Square Pants. It's kind of hard to believe this is Your world.
G: So who's world is it?
M: Right now, I'd say the world belongs to corporations, chaos and science.
G: I see. So what would you have Me do?
M: How about some awesome miracles?
G: And therefore take away all free will?
M: A lotta good it's done us so far.
G: Well, it has brought together millions of moments of chance that all led up to you being the mother of those three little ones you love so much.
M: ...
G: Nu?
M: Okay, so yeah, whatever, they are the most amazing children ever. But they drive me freakin crazy! It's not all hugs and arts and crafts. It's fighting, and exhaustion beyond belief, and heartache, and pain, and so much exposed ugliness. I thought I was a good person until I saw how mean and ugly I can get when pushed by them.
G: So you don't want them because they show you all sides of yourself?
M: No. I didn't say that. Don't twist my words.
G: So what are you saying?
M: I'm saying that we're told that You never give us more than we can handle. But I'm calling BS on that.
G: You do know that you're talking to G-d, right?
M: Yeah, but if You're going to let me get woken up in the middle of the night, You better be prepared for some bad language.
G: Fair enough.
M: Back to what I was saying. You gave me too much. I seriously can't handle this shit. And I'm not going to get into the big stuff like the Sandy shooting or the evil in this world. That's way too much. But just the details of my life. I am doing what I thought I was supposed to do. Being bold. Following my dreams. Pioneering this damn Jewish farm thing. And you can't even sell my house in Pittsburgh? You are leaving me in the middle of nowhere, in the heat of summer and the freezing cold of winter, without my husband. And don't get me started on how much work our marriage needs. Like all marriages. But we only have the weekends to do it! And yes, my children are amazing. And yes, I think they are better, more awesome and more amazing than every other child out there. But that doesn't mean that they aren't the biggest freakin handful of challenges ever! I mean, come on. THIS IS TOO FREAKIN MUCH!
G: Go on...
M: What? No! This isn't a freakin therapy session. I'm not talking to a therapist who's only job is to help me discover more about myself. I'm talking to G-d! YOU can fix this shit!
G: Again with the language.
M: Sorry.
G: It's ok. I'm used to it. You wouldn't believe how many texts start with OMFG.
M: Wait, are You trying to be funny?
G: Would you like a G-d with a sense of humor?
M: Not if it's at my expense.
G: You know, your baby is still crying.
M: Yeah, aren't You going to do something about it?
G: Nope.
M: Aaahhhh WTF? What's the point of even talking to You?
G: Good question. What are you getting out of all this?
M: I don't know. Maybe just the feeling that I'm not alone?
G: Are you asking Me, or telling Me?
M: Oh man, now You really sound like a therapist.
G: Yes, but My rates are much lower.
M: Oh, You were trying to be funny again, weren't You?
G: About your baby...
M: Oh fine. Whatever. Don't help. But don't ask me to be a nice and patient mom tomorrow.
G: Did I not create coffee?
M: This conversation is SO over.
G: Goodnight Tovah.
M: Yeah. Night G-d... I'm still mad at You.
G: Okay.
Me: Seriously? Again? What The Heck, G-d?
G: Yes?
M: Do You hate me or something? Why won't You let me sleep?
G: I'm not keeping you from sleeping, your baby is.
M: Yeah, but You're G-d. And nothing happens that You don't will into being. So how 'bout willing some sleep into my life?
G: And how would you like me to do that?
M: I don't know. Go to my son and put him back to sleep for me. And then keep him asleep for the rest of the night.
G: You want me to intervene with nature?
M: Uh, yeah. You used to do it all the time. Remember? Splitting the Red Sea, Clouds of Glory, oil lasting for eight days. Even two hundred years ago You had these Rebbes who could see the future and fly in their carriages. So, how about a little miracle being sent my way?
G: You don't live in a time of revealed miracles. You live in a time of Faith.
M: Well, I'm sorry to tell Ya, but I'm kinda running low on the stuff. Have you turned on the news lately? You're not exactly batting a thousand down here. Murder of innocents, endless wars, Sponge Bob Square Pants. It's kind of hard to believe this is Your world.
G: So who's world is it?
M: Right now, I'd say the world belongs to corporations, chaos and science.
G: I see. So what would you have Me do?
M: How about some awesome miracles?
G: And therefore take away all free will?
M: A lotta good it's done us so far.
G: Well, it has brought together millions of moments of chance that all led up to you being the mother of those three little ones you love so much.
M: ...
G: Nu?
M: Okay, so yeah, whatever, they are the most amazing children ever. But they drive me freakin crazy! It's not all hugs and arts and crafts. It's fighting, and exhaustion beyond belief, and heartache, and pain, and so much exposed ugliness. I thought I was a good person until I saw how mean and ugly I can get when pushed by them.
G: So you don't want them because they show you all sides of yourself?
M: No. I didn't say that. Don't twist my words.
G: So what are you saying?
M: I'm saying that we're told that You never give us more than we can handle. But I'm calling BS on that.
G: You do know that you're talking to G-d, right?
M: Yeah, but if You're going to let me get woken up in the middle of the night, You better be prepared for some bad language.
G: Fair enough.
M: Back to what I was saying. You gave me too much. I seriously can't handle this shit. And I'm not going to get into the big stuff like the Sandy shooting or the evil in this world. That's way too much. But just the details of my life. I am doing what I thought I was supposed to do. Being bold. Following my dreams. Pioneering this damn Jewish farm thing. And you can't even sell my house in Pittsburgh? You are leaving me in the middle of nowhere, in the heat of summer and the freezing cold of winter, without my husband. And don't get me started on how much work our marriage needs. Like all marriages. But we only have the weekends to do it! And yes, my children are amazing. And yes, I think they are better, more awesome and more amazing than every other child out there. But that doesn't mean that they aren't the biggest freakin handful of challenges ever! I mean, come on. THIS IS TOO FREAKIN MUCH!
G: Go on...
M: What? No! This isn't a freakin therapy session. I'm not talking to a therapist who's only job is to help me discover more about myself. I'm talking to G-d! YOU can fix this shit!
G: Again with the language.
M: Sorry.
G: It's ok. I'm used to it. You wouldn't believe how many texts start with OMFG.
M: Wait, are You trying to be funny?
G: Would you like a G-d with a sense of humor?
M: Not if it's at my expense.
G: You know, your baby is still crying.
M: Yeah, aren't You going to do something about it?
G: Nope.
M: Aaahhhh WTF? What's the point of even talking to You?
G: Good question. What are you getting out of all this?
M: I don't know. Maybe just the feeling that I'm not alone?
G: Are you asking Me, or telling Me?
M: Oh man, now You really sound like a therapist.
G: Yes, but My rates are much lower.
M: Oh, You were trying to be funny again, weren't You?
G: About your baby...
M: Oh fine. Whatever. Don't help. But don't ask me to be a nice and patient mom tomorrow.
G: Did I not create coffee?
M: This conversation is SO over.
G: Goodnight Tovah.
M: Yeah. Night G-d... I'm still mad at You.
G: Okay.
Monday, December 17, 2012
What Now?
It's happened. The worse thing we can imagine. The places we hold as safe havens, almost temples of purity, have been defiled in the worse possible way. And we are left scared. And scarred. I am not trying to diminish the pain felt by those directly effected. Their grief is something that I cannot comprehend. I don't think anyone who hasn't lost a child can even begin to imagine the pain of those who have. So this is for all the parents who are grieving, not for their own loss, but for others.
The hardest part for me to comprehend is that this is happening all over the world. In Syria people are being murdered by the thousands by their own government. In Africa, mothers are watching their children starve to death. In Colombia, kidnapping children is a lucrative business.
But only now, since the shooting, have I been effected by any of it in a real way. Only now has my heart been penetrated. Only now do I hold my children close and squeeze them way past their comfort zones. Only now am I letting my three year fall asleep in my arms, instead of letting her cry, simply because I can.
I think this tragedy hit me so much harder because now it's not something bad that happens 'out there.' Now it is something that happen here. Even in our safe havens, our elementary schools.
"So where is G-d?" a friend asks me. Me, who is an observant Jew. Me, who supposedly has faith. Well here's my dark secret: At times like these I doubt His existence. Actually, I doubt G-d's existence often. How could this world possibly contain so much evil? How could parents be allowed to bury their children? How could money be worshipped above life? How could war still be the answer we are turning to? How could this be The Grand Design?
It just doesn't make any sense.
So why do I continue to be an observant Jew? Because believing that there is a Grand Plan brings me comfort. When I lay in bed at night and worry about my children, I oft imagine the Light of G-d surrounding them in their sleep. I pray to Him to hold them when I can't. To embrace them in a Love all encompassing of their faults and gifts.
Because if I am to believe that I am all they have, I will never be able to breathe again. Because I go to bed at night, handing my troubles over to SomeOne else. They are too heavy for me to hold all the time. Because the worst thing that can happen from living a life of faith, is being called naive. And I'm ok with that. I would rather that, than feel alone in a senseless world.
As long as religion is never placed above life, as long as I treat humans with as much respect as I give my Torah books, I am not hurting anyone. I am simply enhancing my own life. That is my faith. It is not a firm and undeniable belief in G-d. It is a Choice to bring Something Above into my life. Faith is not a personality trait for me. It is not inherent in my being. It is simply my Choice.
And since I don't understand why this happened or why it is happening all over the world, everyday, I will do with it what I try to do with all things in my life: turn it into a channel for good. The only way to ever rid this world of evil is to use the very act as a source of light. Here is my way:
It is too hard to constantly hold the grief in my heart. It is too hard to constantly remember not to take my children for granted. It is too hard to suddenly stop all the routine arguments and fights, nagging and yelling. So instead, on my cell phone I have set an alarm. It goes off once a day, everyday, and it says "Sandy." At that moment I take a minute to stop what I am doing and remind myself how much I love my children and how lucky I am to have them safe, healthy and alive. I give them an extra hug and remind them they are a gift to me.
There are so many tragedies the media reports on, so many it is overwhelming. And I feel deeply about it for about a week. Then I move on. Well, the victims don't just move on when the news does. So this time I will honor the victims by not taking my life for granted. Everyday, once a day, I will not take my children for granted. It is my way of paying homage to all the parents who would give anything just to have their children safe and alive again. Let's not let the collective attention span of our society let us forget. Let's show evil that we are using it's horrible deeds as a channel to bring Love, Light and Good into this world. Imagine how much change could be brought into this world...Lasting change, if every parent used this tragedy as an opportunity give their children more love.
Not just for a week or a month. But for life.
1. My almost seven year old son
2. My three year old daughter
3. My 17 month old son
4. The ability to hold them when they cry
5. The fact that they don't know of evil yet
6. The ability to hold the bad world away so that they can stay innocent a little while longer
Friday, December 14, 2012
In Response to Today's Tragedy
I don't have words of comfort or faith. I have no explanations or ways to understand how something like this could happen. What I do have is this:
How many times do we tell our children they are spoiled. How lucky they are to have food, shelter, clothing. How lucky they are to live in a place with clean water, education and hospitals. We tell them this, believing it will somehow help them see beyond their wants and desires. But how often do we say it to ourselves? I'm saying it right now. Tovah, you've been spoiled. Never have I imagined having to say goodbye to my children. Never has anyone ever had to tell me their days are numbered. Or that when I shoved them off to school this morning, it would be the last time I saw them.
How many times have I complained about having to change another diaper? Cook another meal? Break up another quarrel? How many times I have moaned about picking up after them? How many times have I yelled at them to 'Just stay in bed already!'
But today I say that I would rather clean a thousand bums, listen to hundreds of quarrels, wash thousands of dishes and pick up endless toys and clothes, than EVER have to say goodbye. Today I am reminding myself that I am spoiled. And I am so thankful that I have been so spoiled my whole motherhood. Not everyone has been.
Today I will not take my children for granted. Today I will smother them with kisses and squeeze them with more hugs than they could possibly want. I will smile more and yell less. I am sorry it has taken such a tragedy for me to awaken to this. And if I have anything to offer the parents who suffered the unthinkable today, it is that I will try to honor them by not taking it for granted anymore.
My heart and prayers go out to all parents who have ever known the word 'goodbye.'
Today my GoodList is simple:
My beautiful Children
How many times do we tell our children they are spoiled. How lucky they are to have food, shelter, clothing. How lucky they are to live in a place with clean water, education and hospitals. We tell them this, believing it will somehow help them see beyond their wants and desires. But how often do we say it to ourselves? I'm saying it right now. Tovah, you've been spoiled. Never have I imagined having to say goodbye to my children. Never has anyone ever had to tell me their days are numbered. Or that when I shoved them off to school this morning, it would be the last time I saw them.
How many times have I complained about having to change another diaper? Cook another meal? Break up another quarrel? How many times I have moaned about picking up after them? How many times have I yelled at them to 'Just stay in bed already!'
But today I say that I would rather clean a thousand bums, listen to hundreds of quarrels, wash thousands of dishes and pick up endless toys and clothes, than EVER have to say goodbye. Today I am reminding myself that I am spoiled. And I am so thankful that I have been so spoiled my whole motherhood. Not everyone has been.
Today I will not take my children for granted. Today I will smother them with kisses and squeeze them with more hugs than they could possibly want. I will smile more and yell less. I am sorry it has taken such a tragedy for me to awaken to this. And if I have anything to offer the parents who suffered the unthinkable today, it is that I will try to honor them by not taking it for granted anymore.
My heart and prayers go out to all parents who have ever known the word 'goodbye.'
Today my GoodList is simple:
My beautiful Children
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