Hands-off, or Hands-on?
Tara wrote
this post that really made me think... Especially since I had a talk with a friend of mine last night that made me feel guilty. This isn't really anything new, it's just probably the first time I've actually noticed it. She said that she feels bad when she washes the lunch dishes because she feels like she should be playing with her kids instead.
Well, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by my daughter. And put together with the other kids I babysit, well, I often feel like I need a break! Maybe I'm not cut out for this stay-at-home thing. Maybe I should not be babysitting. Maybe I'm not patient and caring enough. I mean, careless things always happen. I once didn't notice that one of the girls had crawled over to me and was right behind me, so when I turned around, I stepped on her hand. And things like this are always happening. Today, I was trying to prevent the same child from taking things out of a drawer and I accidentally closed the drawer on her hand! I keep thinking that if I was more patient, these things wouldn't happen. If I was actually paying the attention that I should be, she wouldn't have opened the drawer in the first place. Both of the other girls (not my daughter) used to fall over a lot, because they were not steady when they first started pulling up. If I had been paying more attention, perhaps they would not have fallen over. Or, if you want to say that it's important for them to learn, and not to be picked up or put back down every time they stand up, well then maybe I should have been standing behind them to catch them if they did stand and fall.
And then there's the situation with my daughter. I love her very much, but I'm not sure I'm doing such a good job with this mothering thing. I'm very laid back, which I think is a really important quality in a parent. But maybe I'm too laid back. I give her space to explore and learn, but maybe I should be guiding her just a bit more. I know she's only 15 months old, and there isn't so much guiding that can be done, but, well, I feel like I'm too hands off. And maybe I'm wrong. There probably is tons that I could be doing to guide her, if I would only take the time to do it. I feel like I should be playing on the floor with her, but I don't have the energy or desire. That seems like a bad thing to me. I think that I need to snap out of this rut, and start being who she needs me to be.
But maybe I'm being too hard on myself?
Music Musings
Music brings me back to my past - back to the place I was, physically, mentally and spiritually when that song became meaningful to me. When I listen to
"Nothing Else Matters" and close my eyes, I'm back in my final year of high school at Model U.N. When I listen to my CD,
"In the Midst of Angels", it's Christmas time in my last year of university and I'm doing readings for my History Independent Study in my father's living room, as snow gently falls outside and my stepsisters play Nintendo. When I hear, well, anything from Pearl Jam's
"Ten" , it brings me back to that dark period in grade 11 when I thought I was going to kill myself.
It can also get more complex than that. Songs can have layers of significance that build up over time - like an archaeologist's tel - a mountain made of a lifetime's worth of meaning.
"Just the Way You Are" by Billy Joel reminds me of grade seven, when my best friends bought me his greatest hits for my birthday, but also of the period when my husband and I were engaged - it's now one of "our songs".
It's also related to
genre. Different
types of music make me think of and feel different things. Classical music gives me a "university feeling". "Chick music", like Sarah McLaughlan or Anna Nalick, makes me want to be a singer. Bon Jovi (the slow stuff) makes me want to write songs/poetry. Carlebach makes me dance, and '90s "alternative grunge scene" makes me feel rebellious and defiant.
I guess this means that I can really tap into my subconscious, through music. I can manipulate myself if I want by putting myself into different "moods". I can engineer my own success or failure, by merely pulling the right strings. If I should be cooking or cleaning, well, I'll listen to Jazz. And if I feel I need some time to myself, I can listen to nature sounds. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll turn on some Bon Jovi.
A Good Place
Lately, I've been enjoying my daughter so much that I've been thinking that it would (also) be okay if she was it - if there were no more. I know that my husband - like most men - wants a lot of kids, and so do I, but this is kind of a liberating feeling. It's just very nice to have a content feeling, a feeling of, "this could be enough." Especially since because of infertility and other health issues, I know I may be limited.
My sister-in-law is happy with the three kids she has and isn't sure if she wants any more. In fact, she is pretty sure that right now she doesn't. She has her considerations - high day school tuition for 3 kids all born within 4 years; she recently lost a lot of weight and doesn't want to push herself back to sqare one. And she's totally fine with the idea of not adding any more to her family. She's also nearing that magic portal - age 35 - through which no woman feels completely safe having children (she certainly feels this way). Who know when I'll reach the end of my childbearing years, especially since it tends toward the early side in my family. If I were to stop by age 35, well, I may only end up with 3 or 4, at most! I intend to use all the time I have continuing to try. And each month it doesn't happen is still a disappointment. But if it doesn't work out, well, I know that my daughter will be enough. Not because she has to be or because I wish she would be, but because she already is.
I Had a Dream
I had a really weird dream last night, but I woke up so refreshed. I haven't woken up so, well,
awake in a really long time. In any case, my dream was this: I was getting into a taxi and talking to
Ben Avuyah about continuing to practice Orthodoxy in the face of internal atheism/doubts. He looked a lot like one of the dorm counselors in the yeshiva where my husband works (we've known this guy for years, since he was in yeshiva and he's now back as a madrich), and he followed me into the taxi. As the cab pulled away from the curb, we continued to talk, and I felt like it was a discussion that had been going on for a long time between the two of us. In the end, as the cab carried us away through the night, we agreed that it was easier to remain "frum" than to upset our whole lives. And the more complicated life got, and the more people that were involved, the more difficult it would get. Being married; having children; owning a home in a specific neighbourhood; belonging to a circle of friends - these all are factors that make it harder and harder to break away, even though remaining is perhaps not really "the truth."
Well, it was certainly a strange dream, but more in line with the kind of dreams I used to have... It's obvious that finding Ben Avuyah's blog yesterday brought me back to a
time in my life when I was more true to myself, and more honest about how uncertain I was. The fact that he looked like the dorm counselor, is probably because I read
this post and because the particular dorm counselor who appeared in my dream is most likely to behave in the same way - though he is not as extreme and does respect library property. He also respects rules - a lot. The taxi was because we took a taxi last night.
I'm tempted to say that I found the dream disturbing. But that's not true. I woke up feeling refreshed. Maybe the answer is that, as crazy as it may seem, I need to be me. I need the doubts. I need the uncertainty. Even though it all makes life difficult and makes me feel like an outsider, at least I am at home in my own mind. At least I
AM me.
Just like Me
I've spent a lot of my life looking out the window. It could just be a love of nature, a desire to know if the sun is shining, or a curiosity about what is going on outside - all of which could actually be the case with me. But I know the truth. It's because I can't stop wishing I was someone else. I look out the window as if I am looking out of my reality and into some unknown, but better existence. It's not anything specific. Yes, I do wish that I had more money; it would have been nice to successfully nurse my daughter, and for longer; I would like to be able to get pregnant without intervention... There are other things that I am unhappy about in my life, but none of them are what causes me to wish I wasn't me. It's somethimg more basic than that. It's just my "isness", as a Rabbi I know used to say. I feel two dimensional. I want to BE more.
It reminds me of this poem I wrote in high school:
I look out the window
Into the world
That imperfect world
And I feel like I'm looking
Into my heart
I close the shutters
And walk away.
(That's at least how I remember it, since I may have packed the journal where I wrote them all down.) I know there's something more IN THERE, but I keep ignoring it, and it's coming back to get me in so many ways. I need to be happy. I need to get happy.
Incidentally, I read a great, and somewhat related
ma'amar in Sichos Mussar today. It's the first one in the
sefer, actually on this week's
parsha. He says, in a nutshell, that a student needs to have an eagerness for what he's learning. He has to WANT it - and to view it as new and exciting. In other words, a person can only be happy when he is seeking. Once he feels accomplished, he starts to get antsy. It's all "old". It's all been "done before". This is so true. The problem is that seeking is not enough. A person can't just be an aimless wonder. He has to be seeking in a specific direction, or else he is just lost. Lost, like me.
Nobody ever tags me, but I wanted to do this one.
Four jobs I've had in my life: Waitress, Teacher, Dental Assistant, Pencil Pusher.
Four movies I could watch over and over: Say Anything, Back to the Future, Casablanca, Scent of a Woman
Four places I've lived: Saskatchewan, Toronto, Jerusalem, Where I live now
Four TV Shows I love to watch – Charmed, My So-Called Life, Family Ties, West Wing
Four places I've visited – London, Paris, Amsterdam, New York City
Four websites I visit pretty often –
Mirty,
For Better or for Worse,
Elie, Israel Weather
Four of my favorite foods – Pizza, Chicken soup, Chocolate, Cake
Four places I'd rather be – In a good headspace, In the summer, In the money, In Denial (these are jokes, of course; really I'd just like to be somewhere warm)
Four books I'll read over and over again – A Prayer for Owen Meany, the Pesach Haggada, The Solitaire Mystery, Jitterbug Perfume
Four things I'm fairly good at doing – Writing, Mothering, Organizing, Cooking
Four things that I could improve on – Concept of time, Procrastinating, Neatness, Being Me
What's In the Mirror?
I feel like I'm wasting my life away. I
AM actually wasting my life away. I quit my job to be at home with my daughter, and I'm much happier than I was with the stress of my job, but I'm also not actually
doing anything right now. I mean, I always wanted to be at home so that I could have more time to myself, more time
for myself. But now I find myself playing stupid games on the computer for hours every day. I justify myself because I have a cold and I'm tired and my husband has been telling me every day that I should get some rest. So I don't actually
sleep, but I do relax. I know it's not true, though. I know it's all a farce. I'm really avoiding taking the time for myself to figure my life out. Why? I'm afraid of the upheaval that facing myself and finding the answers will bring. It's difficult. I'm afraid of the truth. I don't need therapy; I never did. What I need is the moral fiber to be honest with myself. I'm worried that everything will change? It will. It'll be better. I have to believe it will be better, or I'll never even start. And that would be the real failure.
Lost Post
I had written a whole post on my other blog - yes, I have another blog - and it didn't post. How annoying. I hate when that happens. Usually I copy the text before posting, but this time, I didn't. How upsetting... It totally kills the desire to write more. I guess at some point, I'll rewrite the thing and post it, but I'm so annoyed about this...
