Home Alone

It's been 286 days. since I retreated from life. not intentionally. It's been a mommy time-out. Though if I had had the gumption to think about it, I would have taken A Year by the Sea as Joan Anderson did. She took a vacation from her family.

But, I didn't think about it. I didn't get to plan it. It just came to me. 

As I woke the morning of the first day of school and made my way to the bathroom, I crumbled - in pain. That was it. I couldn't move. That was the beginning of my year "off". 


I have one more week of lazy life. And, to honor that, my family has gone to Hawaii for a week - leaving me home alone. Got that? In my house. All alone. For a week.

why is this week any different than the weeks from the past 9 months? It's not really.
I don't have to do anything that is not a 'have to'.
Same as the last 9 months.
I'm not so mobile.
Same as the last 9 months.
I'm laying down most of the day.
Same as the last 9 months.

I've already been given a mommy time-out. And, now it's like the frosting on the cake. One more week of "doing nothing" except that - this week - my children are not in the home with me (nor is my husband, but I am more accustomed to that).

It's not quite as glorious as one might imagine.

I woke up on the first morning and didn't know what to do with mySelf - despite the list of "things I need to get done" that I had prepared the night before. I couldn't believe how long the day lasted. I achieved so much AND sat around on my a#! for much of the day.

An amazing reflection of how much time our children need from us each day (and I'm celebrating that fact, not complaining about).

I've realized a lot this week.

I have realized that the trauma of the first time I had time away from caring for my children still resides within me. When I received the call about a certain son who is not cooperating and pulling "one of his moods", his impossible moods, on the Hawaiian vacation that the rest of my family is on. And, I am here and they are there. I have no control and yet my heart aches and breaks. Am I better off not knowing? Can I act as an advisor? Can I really do anything to help? Does bringing me into the situation do anybody any good? Because if it does - I'm willing.

The first time - I went away with a friend. While in the airport, I get a phone call that this same child was… missing. They were looking for him. He didn't want to go to preschool. What was I going to do? What was my role in that situation? Could I do anyone any good at that moment? I hung up the phone and cried. The child was soon found in the depths under my bed.

This week, I have realized that it's quite strange to wake up and get ready in the morning without any interruptions. I am so accustomed to the children's needs cutting into my own that I don't know what to do with thirty straight minutes all dedicated to mySelf.

I have realized that at 2:30, my heart automatically begins to beat faster as I realize there is a half-hour left before I have to pick my children up at school - or that they will be returning from school, as I frequently did not pick them up from school this year.

I have realized that I don't like being away from my children. Not that I didn't know that before - but I really, really feel it this time. All of them at once. For more than a few days. It's … hmmm… hard? strange? Different - for sure, it's different.

What makes this week different from the last 10 months? Since August 7th, I have done nothing that I did not need to do. I have been laying down more than I have been standing up. I have watched more TV than I am willing to admit. I have not exercised. I have not participated. I have been nearly non-functional.

This week, the pressure of the 'have-to's" are a little less. My bouts of standing time are not interrupted with a child's need (no offense, my dear children).

I am a mommy 'home alone' which would typically lead to the rush of getting things done - finishing scrap books, cleaning out rooms, reorganizing home and life…

Nope. None of that. A Mommy Time Out.
That's all it is.
I highly recommend it… and, then again, I don't.

Forty Two Years

Forty-two years (sometimes longer) of friendship sat around the table. From kindergarten (sometimes pre-school) through high school (sometimes college), I sat with my childhood friends.

We don't talk every day. Some of us don't even talk every year. Sometimes, we have remained close. And, sometimes, life has moved us apart. 

But, when we are together - my longing for home is fulfilled. I get a dose of girls - who may not know me like they used to know me - who may have different goals, needs, and values than I do - who may talk about me when I leave ;) - whose lives are different and the same as mine all in one. 

And, we laugh. And relive. And catch up. We fill with joy. We stop in sorrow. We breathe in relief. We laugh and laugh and laugh.

Dear friends, thank you for giving your time so we could be together again.

Gail, we missed you. We need you. We love you. Hope to see you next time.

*Ode to Tyler: Your presence (especially in uniform) adds to the fun, the laughter, and the tales told. Next time, let's get Rich(ie) to cross the state line! 

December 16th...

(There are a lot of links below. Please, spend some time reading, especially the ones further down )

December 16th was the day my dear friend, Cindy Feldman - of blessed memory - was born. She pursued life with the passion of someone who knew why she was placed in the world. You can 'meet' her here: Cindy's Curls

December 16, 2012 was the day my grandmother, Fritzi Polovin - obm -  died at 98 years old. (98 Is Great) We weren't exactly done with her, but she was ready to move on. This year, I'll be serving cottage cheese pancakes, chocolate chip cookies, and maybe even venturing to I-Hop for a meal (her very famous and favorites).

December 16, 2013 - The funeral for Superman Sam z"l will be held at Shalom Memorial in Arlington Heights - the same place where my grandmother was 'laid to rest'. Sam had leukemia. I didn't know him. I don't know his mom. I discovered her blog "This Messy Life" and followed it - because her writing is beautiful. She is able to use her words to make you feel life. It was from that blog that I discovered her "Superman Sam" blog and her family's war against Leukemia. 

And, I started praying and hoping. I realize, again, that I have no idea what she or the rest of her family and friends are feeling right now. But Superman Sam's mom writes so powerfully and honestly that you feel like you are a part of her world. Her thoughts and questions, sorrow and bewilderment, hope and strength penetrate to your soul and give you a sense… just a sense. 

She writes and you feel.
You become a part of Sam's life.
Praying for his miracle.

Devastation.

***

We all have our favorite charitable organizations - ones that war against illnesses we wish didn't exist. Illnesses we hope to eliminate from this world. 

We even have our favorite cancer-fighting movement. 

I support Cycle for Survival. This foundation was started by my brother's childhood friend, Dave Linn, and his wife Jennifer Goodman-Linn. She fought sarcoma for seven years. They started Cycle for Survival to raise money that goes directly to research for orphan cancers (making up 50% of cancer diagnoses), including pediatric cancer.

This year, Scottsdale is hosting a satellite location. Please come ride with us on January 12th beginning at 9:00 am at the JCC on Scottsdale and Sweetwater. You can sign up here on the team I'll be riding with:

Team Linn


You get in a workout, and we raise money for cancer research.

My friend, Joy Solon Weber, introduced me to the Pablove Foundation. Pablove is a non-profit raising money for pediatric cancer. Joy's husband, Adam, rides with the Pablove Foundation from the Bay to LA and has already completed the ride this year, but we can still help him reach his fundraising goal : Donate to Adam's Ride 

Just before Thanksgiving in 2010, my dear friend's niece - Lindsey Eyles - battle against sarcoma ended. I support CureSearch in memory of Lindsey and in the hopes that children (and adults) will no longer have to go through what the Eyles family went through and continues to go through every day since Lindsey's death.

On March 31, 2014 - 36 Rabbis will be "Shaving for the Brave". The brave is Superman Sam, and these rabbis are part of the St. Baldrick's Foundation efforts to eradicate childhood cancer by putting on low-cost events in order to give larger sums of money to research and prevention efforts.

On March 4, 2014 - you can participate with Coaches Against Cancer at the Sports Authority in Arizona Mills.  You can shave your head, volunteer, or just donate.

December 16th will stand out boldly from the rest of the year for the rest of my life. This world is broken, and we are charged with the task of fixing it.

Even a dollar will take us closer to finding a cure and eradicating cancer.


I have also been touched by the work of : 
Peach's Neet Feet - From Our Heart to Your Sole
and
Miles 2 Give

Oxygen

Moms, why don't we speak to each other more often? Not about who is struggling in school or who made the soccer team or how busy our days are. But, about mothering things. 

Like children pushing our buttons. And the mommy moments we wish didn't happen (but are relieved to hear that our mommy friends also had). Or the limits our children push us to - really push us to.

The things that make us say "I suck at this". "I can't take another day" or "What did I get myself into?"

It was so nice to speak with a friend today and learn that we are living with the same children. The one who can't get up in the morning, takes a lot of prodding... a lot, needs to be reminded to 
'get going' while in the shower, 'get out' and 'you have one more minute - last time I'm telling you'. 

The child who shrieks - at least once a day. Well, really - once in the morning and once in the evening. And, we've learned that the shriek does not symbolize anything real so we call from another room: "You're fine. Do you want an ice pack?  Come and get it."

We both have the child with a bit (ok, a lot) of anxiety. Maneuvering through life is difficult. Watching that pushes our buttons. We can only handle observing panic in our children for so long or so many times a day.  And, then it's time for them to go live in someone else's house.

But, then we realize we should be a different mother. The one who knows their child so well and knows what he or she needs and can actually give it to them without consulting a therapist. Or at least we should be the mother who is patient and understanding and supportive. The one with the magic key to turn off the panic and instill calm. 

There is the child who is starting to sass and observe our stupidity and is not afraid to let us know it. They are establishing their independence but they are babies. They are lost but they know where they want to go. Their attitudes sometimes smack us across the face in an unexpected burst.

We also both have the child who brings sweetness to every moment. Who makes us think that parenthood could be easy and calm and delightful - all the time. 

My friend and I, we acknowledged how essential it is for mothers to nurture themselves in order to be a better person for their children. The oxygen mask - put it on first, before you put it on your children if, G-d forbid, there is an emergency on the plane. I told the flight attendant that I always put myself first. I hope he knows I was joking. Then again, I hope he recognized what a great mom I am to put myself first.

Hard is the New Hard

I've been watching you young mommies lately - with a bit of envy and a bit of horrifying flashback.  I remember trying to get out the door with little ones in tow, having to make sure they were safely latched into their seats - because they cannot do it themselves, loading up the double stroller and finding ways to get through small, tight spaces, taking 45-minutes to load up for a five minute errand.

I remember missed naps, forced naps, driving to sleep naps (I can tell you where all the horse properties are in my neck of the woods and which horses are usually visible by a child peering out the window from his car seat). I remember meals that took hours (because massive clean up - and, perhaps, a bath was involved). I remember strategic planning on how to get to music classes while  still preserving nap time and figuring out when I could get a bite to eat, or do the laundry or the dishes, or have a minute to sit down... 

I remember thinking "I can't do this", "I need a break", and "my kids are driving me crazy". I enjoyed the moment but looked toward the future.  I noticed moms with her four teenagers walking alongside her.  I listened to the evolving conversations.  I marveled at little children who had grown up big.

And, now I've learned. Hard is the new hard.  I'm not sure which stage of children is easier and which stage is harder.  I'm not sure it matters.  

Putting my children in the car?  That's easier.  They can do it themselves - all of them - most of the time.  Putting them to bed for the night?  Uh, still hard.  I have to try and stay awake long enough to see the oldest to bed.  I have to make sure another one stops reading and turns off his light before he tumbles into bed.  I still have to read to them (thankfully) and sing (sh'ma) before bed. And, yes, there are still struggles to get them to calm down and get into bed.  Bedtime is often prolonged longer than I'd like.  Children still come into my room with scary thoughts, I can't sleep, or I'm hungry issues. In fact, there is one in my bed right now.  Oh - make that two.

And, now they have independence streaking through their little veins. They know more than me (and - if it's homework we're talking about - they do know more than me).  Their personalities spend time each day working to get along with their siblings (that's the nice way of saying that the silly little tantrums of toddler-hood do not disappear - they evolve). Life is still a pinball machine and I continue to bounce between the four balls that someone put in my machine. 

Motherhood is still non-stop.  It continues to keep me up at night. There is still no privacy in the bathroom. The house is messier than ever (I know toddler-moms, you can't believe it!). And first-time listening appears to be a life-long feat. 

I still run around, trying to manage the schedules of four under-scheduled children. We have our days where we go from one thing to the next. I went from trying to stay out and about until bedtime (especially on the nights when David was not home) to setting the clocks ahead so we can all go to sleep early.  

There are many statements that are repeated on a daily basis: "Turn it off", "Pick up your clothes", "Empty your lunch boxes", "You need to use shampoo when you wash your hair", "Clear your spot".... I could go on.... and on.....  and on.

Yep - hard is the new hard when it comes to motherhood.  But, it's a good hard.

On The Edge

“And God said come to the edge." "I can't. I’m afraid." "Come to the edge." "I can't. I’ll fall" "Come to the edge." I went to the edge and God pushed me…….and I flew.”

― Guillaume Apollinaire

Life can change. Tomorrow. A day filled with instants. And, in one of those instants, life can change.

I'm going to the edge tomorrow and I know I may be a different person by the end of the day then I am now. I've been to the edge before. Had my toes on the line. But I've never gone over. Always been afforded the blessing of turning around. Of thanking G-d that my world would remain the same as it had been.

I'm pretty sure thats how it will be tomorrow - because that's how it always is - but that's what everyone thinks - before they go over.  I sure don't feel any wings sprouting.  And, even if I remain on my side of the edge, I think of all those who are being pushed over.  The world changes every day and most of us don't know it. Most of us never have to spread our wings. Most of us don't have to soar after being pushed down.

Fear taunts us and plays with us and wastes our time. I can sit and dwell or I can go eat cookies.... with my Grommet cookie spoon.

I need one of these.

Lazy Mama

Even in a mother's laziness, there is no rest.  As the holiday of Sukkot fast approaches, I find myself contemplating my most favorite theme of this harvest holiday.  Going back to basics. Sukkot, to me, is almost an extension of Shabbat - Shabbat one step deeper.  Not only do we turn off all that keeps us attached to the physical world (our cell phones, computers, ovens, cars, etc.) - but we leave our homes and enter the simplicity of living in a booth. It doesn't matter how extravagant our decorations nor how sparkly our lights, we all sit in the sukkah with three walls and a ceiling of skach that allows us to view the stars when we look up.

Sukkot beckons us to focus on the things in life that hold the utmost importance. It is our faith and our tradition that propel us to shake the lulav and the etrog - an action that holds no meaning whatsoever outside of this holiday. We spend time with friends and family, sharing meals and engaged in discussions about the gifts our ancestors left us with and how we can continue to make the world a better place for those who will come after us.

We return to basics. We overflow with gratitude for the roof over our heads, for the food we have to eat, for the family and community that surround us.  We don't have to spend our days running errands, cleaning up after children (ok - maybe we do ), making phone calls, arranging for house repairs....

We slow down. We pay attention. We realize how many extras we have.

I feel like I have been in a sukkah for the past month (though I've been without the mosquitos that seem to be inhabiting our sukkah this year). I have been inside - my house and my mind - and I have not ventured out too often. I have done only what I have had to do and have avoided being in my car, having long conversations, standing for too long, sitting much at all, and all the little extras that typically inhabit a mom's life.

I have "chosen" to be a lazy mom for the past month. And, still, I find that my days are jam packed. The hours still disappear before I am ready for them to go. I don't know how I do it - when I'm doing it all.

I am looking forward to shutting down the email and ignoring the Facebook because - you see - in my 'laziness', I have acquired a habit of looking and checking every time I am icing my leg and my back. It's better than a dose of motrin and helps to take my mind off the pain that has consumed me. And, perhaps, what keeps me so busy in my laziness.

The world continues to spin.
The years repeat themselves.
The holidays always bring something new to our attention.
When we live with open eyes, we see the cycles, the paradoxes, the constant movement.
When we sit still, it all becomes present before us.


And, now, I must go guide my children as they hang the last of the sukkah decorations.