In 2001 I failed student teaching in first grade and did not
receive my master’s degree. I wanted to
teach English for Speakers of Other Languages, but I had to survive a semester
of classroom management first. My
adviser told me that I will never be a teacher before I have a child of my
own.
Now I have a child and I remember the six year-old that saw
me as another kid, even though my daughter is not quite two.
She has a princess bed with a canapé, yet she wakes up
around 9:30 am in my bed. She falls
asleep between me and my husband around midnight. We carry her to her bed. Two or three hours later she opens the
swinging doors from her room into ours and climbs in into our bed.
Tired papa gets up at 6 am to go to work. He scolds me for not pushing nap time at the
certain hour to make her turn in before 10.
I attempt nap time every day. I join her in her bed. Where my face is hit
by the plastic hands of Jessy doll, my teeth are examined by my daughter’s
little fingers, my eyes are poked, and I am tickled.
I do it at 1 pm, she pretends to quiet down and close her
eyes and I leave. Ten minutes later I
hear the drum roll of little feet running after me.
I stop my house chores a 2 pm, and repeat the process. On a miracle day I am successful, on most days she waits to
fall asleep in her papa’s arms when he gets home from work.
Both my husband and I are creative, procrastinating people.
When we get to work on a project we are stubborn enough to finish it no matter what.
So, breakfast turns into snack, and dinner turns into evening
tea. My s
et up rolls into clean up
without a break.
-Come for dinner!
-I
will be right there I am working on something.
-It’s getting cold!
-You
should be happy I hung that picture. I
made an A on my last assignment.
Our working papa is working on his graduate degree. He
helps around the house with things that are usually the men’s responsibility. He loves his daughter and they have a special
bond. He can also discipline her.
When I attempt to tell her “No” she starts banging her head
on the floor and screaming. Maybe this
is typical terrible twos, but then what’s our excuse.
My mother comes out for her breakfast we I am attempting
lunch for my toddler. “When did you
manage to cook this? I couldn’t get up today. I thought I will die tonight but
I didn’t.”
I plan my moves around the house to multitask and still
find things to pick up, clean up, and fix on my way. The washing machine and drier seem to work
around the clock. I interrupt pant
hemming or vegetable chopping for a diaper change. I take the dog out with full hands and not
enough cloths for the weather.
The husband will come home and find everything I didn’t get
to in a minute. “Why is this food sitting out? Put in the refrigerator. The dog pooped downstairs. Do you ever go outside? There is a package on
the steps."
The strange thing is, weather or not the babe had a nap or
not, she still will not turn off the night or wake up in the morning at the
decent hour. This may be terrible twos
or this may be mama being a playdate.
Then she will smile and dance and we all forget to
discipline her.
At Simchat Tora, she found the bimah. She danced around the Torah table with
everyone else and then discovered the little step leading to the arch. Now when we go to Shul, she wants to sit on
that step or dance on it, or climb it.
She gets there before I blink. I
coax her back with snacks and making funny faces. The husband gets upset. She is interrupting a Holly moment.
As always the people are split into two camps on this one. Some would think we don’t control our
child. “ Please don’t let her to the
bimah, only the Bar Mitzvah family or Cohen Gadol is allowed up there.” They will make stern faces, offer to take her
away from there, and give parenting suggestions. The others
will say, “Let her play, let her run!
She is so cute! She should love
the Shul.”
I have been attending and visiting many Synagogues. Reform, Conservative, Modern Orthodox, or
Chabad, you will find these two types of people.
Yet regardless of what people think, this is still an SOS
for Nanny McPhee.
How do mothers of five do it? And observant Jewish women my
age usually are mothers of at least three kids.
They seem to run a well-oiled machine without effort and I am not
managing one.
As with the bimah situation, I will get two answers. One- “You
are doing great, she is cute and healthy, she will grow out of it.” Two- “You are a parent not a friend, set boundaries
and stick to the schedule.” All of which
is easier said then done.
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