singlehood to motherhood: I Know

singlehood to motherhood: I Know: andbabymakes2.co.il I just broke up with the man I had been seeing for the last six months.   Like most of the break ups I have had, ...

I Know

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I just broke up with the man I had been seeing for the last six months.  Like most of the break ups I have had, I will tell you that I don’t know why, but of course, I have speculated about the reasons.  For the most part, the men are, insert your own “diagnosis” here…unavailable, commitment- phobes, workaholics, just not that into me etc.  Can you relate?
Most women I know will tell you variations on the same saga: at the beginning they were angels, caring, loving, attentive, SO into them.  At some point, most of us will say, it changed.  One day they were darlings and the next they disappeared.  Most of us will also tell you that it usually corresponded to the woman asking for, expecting, suggesting, gently nudging or even demanding….dare I speak of it out loud…MORE. And then he was gone.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT???!!

I finally met someone who I thought was different;   A widow, with no annoying ex -wife lurking, a single dad, committed, and hardworking. Someone who pursued me relentlessly for three months and put up with my kids, my schedule, and my not so pleasant late afternoon demeanor.

The minute I suggested more…out the door he went without even a goodbye. I mean REALLY? SERIOUSLY? At 50 years old?  Isn’t there a statute of limitations for bad adolescent immature behavior? Did 20 + years of marriage teach him nothing? THIS is how he communicates?

If I stay in this zone, then I can say it is good that it ended. Who needs that? I deserve more and better.   It’s not like I haven’t ever been in a failed relationship before, clearly I have, and we all have. It is sad, disappointing, self-diminishing (at least for me) and a blow to the ego. But I have never had a relationship with children, and without a doubt it’s more complicated….. Interrupted phone calls, babysitter snafus, unsatisfied sex due to little people barge ins… this is all new to me. But I am basically an optimist and shockingly for those who know me, a romantic.  I do believe in fairy tales.  I had a fairy book romance with my ex-husband.  Obviously, we didn’t live happily ever after, but for me, that doesn’t mean that the fairy tale was less real or special or romantic or heartfelt.

This man is the first I have been completely at ease with and entirely myself and I really believed he wasn’t one of “those”.

 In order to move on, we evolved therapized women know we need to find the “good” in order to “get closure”.  This break up is new so I’m still sorting through its demise.  But here is what I do know: when a man isn’t willing to sacrifice for you and the relationship then you shouldn’t either.  If he woos you to get you he should want to woo you to keep you.  If he says he loves you but isn’t around enough to show you that he does then how much does he really love you?  If everything comes before you then how much does he really want you?  If you ask him what he wants after six months of being together and he says he doesn’t know and offers no solution or compromise then he doesn’t want you enough.

And then you talk to your mom and your girlfriends and maybe even your shrink and they give you the platitudes…oh how I love the platitudes…
The timing just wasn’t right, he just isn’t capable, he is passive aggressive, but bottom line, if a guy is into you he will likely go to the ends of the earth, or at least the end of the block, for you. These are my core beliefs on the subject and I am not willing to compromise for an “I don’t know”. 

But… I’m lonely and bored and sexually, well, ..y’know… and I miss having a companion, friend and lover.

So here is my question, can you let go of your own “what I know” for his “I don’t know” because you get SOME of what you want? Is that enough? For me? For my kids? I DON’T KNOW.

So even though I have considered picking up the phone to call, at the end of the day I’m not sure what to say. Or even if I figure it out, how long will it last? Because very soon after the reunion, assuming there is one, won’t the same things that bothered me before still bother me? Won’t I still be annoyed when he tells me yet again that he can’t make it here for my birthday, a good friend’s party, a shabat?  Doesn’t he need to know before we can proceed to…well, anywhere?

If someone tells you I don’t know and they still don’t know when you finally talk then what is left?
So I don’t call. I write this blog, or I catch up on my latest tv show episodes or talk on the phone. I wonder though…What are you thinking? Do you miss me? Why haven’t you called? Are you really so scared? Or are you just not that into me?

Whistle while you Work

Whistle while you Work

Since the girls were born, I have revolved my life around them.  That is to say, I have essentially worked very limitedly in order to spend most of my time with them. In short, the freedom I have had, upon checking my bank balance, is that the time to go back to work full time has arrived.

I am very lucky that I have been able to do this.  In retrospect, this might not have been the right move financially, but as a mother, and particularly an old(er) mother, it was important to me to invest the time and resources in them.

But now, I need to return to the full time work force. This topic is universal. Most mothers today, single or in a relationship need to work. Having said that, until you make the transition yourself, it is just words, platitudes, and you really cannot empathize.  When my kids say to me which babysitter is picking us up today, I feel a piece of my heart shatter. They seem to like the babysitters and they even told me last night that they wanted Naama (one of the sitters) to come and bathe them and not mommy. So it is a relief that they like the sitters. But…I wonder if all the night time “bed warming” of late has to do with my absence.  I assume that it does but…maybe not?

We mothers seem to absorb the ills of the world upon our shoulders…at least I do. Everything that happens to them is because of something I did, or more likely didn’t do.  While it makes me appear to be a caring, involved attentive mother, as the grown daughter of a mother who still does this, I find it annoying at best and most days completely maddening. I tell my mom regularly that the world does not revolve around her.  It is ironic, for those of you that know her, since she is a giving and caring person. But I think when your kids are little you are the focal point of their lives and feelings of responsibility  for everything that happens to them is a hard habit to break. Their dependence on you and your connection to their loves and losses goes down exponentially as they get older.  Maybe this sense of guilt or responsibility we moms carry with us, is why we children always blame our parents or more often, our mom.

I wonder. In a few years from now, I will stop being the center of their universe. Will it feel better to leave them then? The truth is, according to many of my mom friends, I go out “a lot”. I do work two evenings a week and have since they’re small.  In the last year, I have added a play date to one of my work evenings. That is to say, after work is over, I generally meet a friend, for an hour or so before I go home.  I do not feel bad or guilty about this.  I need it and there are days I even crave it.
The milestones of crawling, walking, and talking are over but sometimes I still feel that I am missing out. The other day, we were at the park. I noticed how they now use the “big girl” swings exclusively. How they climb up the slide with greater speed and confidence. They slide faster, swing higher and spin seamlessly. I marvel at their new found independence and feel bittersweet pride; thrilled for them and their growth and sadness that I wasn’t there when they acquired these skills.

 Likewise, our bedtime routine has advanced. The songs and TV shows have evolved. However, the feelings of joy, serenity, and tranquility aren’t. That half hour before they go to sleep is sacred and while I now have to work several evenings a week, and miss it, the nights that I am home have become that much more special and important to me, and I think (hope?) for them as well.

 

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Who's yo Daddy?

The theme the last couple of weeks in our house has been abba (daddy).

While I have prepared myself endlessly for the question "why don’t we have an abba" or “where is our abba"? I was completely unprepared for the statement, "My abba is…..”         

I had no idea how to respond and so I did the next best thing, I completely ignored it.

 The next day, I took out our book about the different kinds of families and read it to them and talked with them about who is in our family and who is in their friends' families, even though I was pretty sure this was not what they were asking.  Since a statement was made, I presumed, it was clear to my little girl that she has one.  She didn’t inquire as to his whereabouts he or his identity. In her mind he exists. Not that I know what that actually means. I am guessing he exists in a vague story book way, since at gan (nursery school) and at home all the books have a mommy and a daddy.

 Several days later a male friend of mine was over.  She kept coming over and asking to sit on his lap. Instead of listening to him I was watching my little girl.  She was looking at his face and his chest.  I could just tell that had she been less shy she would’ve reached out and touched him.  Another male friend told me that my baby keeps asking him about his chest hairs and why he has them.

When I was a little girl, I remember sitting with my dad on Fridays in the bathroom watching him get ready for shul (synagogue). I remember being fascinated with watching him shave.  It was part of our pre-shabat ritual.  I also recall watching my grandfather shave.  So, when we are in America, or when my dad is here, I invite the girls to sit with him and watch.   

I have recently been forced to contemplate who isn’t in our family.  In the last few weeks a lack of male presence is definitely noticeable. I guess it is true, that a mother (father too?!) can feel their children's pain or in this case non-verbalized question.  It has made me confront a self-declared uncle and tell him he needs to continue his commitment to my kids, even if it is 10 minutes a month. They need it, want it, and deserve it.  So maybe these men are friends and they will never be an abba replacement but some male presence is necessary even mandatory.  This is not to say that children who grow up with no males whatsoever are not emotionally stable or successful people.  But I'm beginning to see and not just philosophize how important it really is and to understand far better the choice to not have kids if a male figure isn’t present. Or women who choose to have a child with a gay man. I don’t regret my very conscious choice to do it on my own. These other options weren’t suitable for me.  Frankly, having had a difficult relationship with my own dad as a child, I never gave too much thought to the value of the male figure, and so, absent a love partner, I didn’t want a business partner.

Kids do need a mother and a father.  This is not to say they can't manage without one or the other.  Kids are adaptable…everyone says that. But lately, I look at other kids who are with their dads or with both parents and I wonder if my girls are suffering and what the long term implications are for a dad-less existence? Is it like taking the highway or surface streets; you never know which way is faster if you can't drive them simultaneously?   I don't never really know how this has impacted them.

  As a child, my dad was my least favorite person.  As a forty plus woman, he is my hero.  My dad, even at his worst, always took care of us.  He was always committed to our family.  He has always been there for me although not in that “Father knows Best”, “Brady Bunch” or Dr. Huxtable way.  His child rearing methods lacked warmth and sensitivity in the best of times.

But as a grown woman, my dad rocks.  He has stepped outside his comfort zone to provide support, love and assistance.  He has spent extended periods of time here, in Israel, out of love for his daughter and granddaughters.

I am dating a widower.  He too is a dad who rocks.  While some of his parenting methods are outside my scope and do not mesh with what I “assume” I will do when my kids are teenagers, his commitment to and love for his children is clear. He is there for them and I guess that is all any of us can really provide.

When I see these men in my life, I feel sad that my girls don’t have a daddy  to provide them with this perspective.  I am sad that my girls won’t have a man to walk to shul with on Friday nights, down the alley, holding pinkys like I did with my dad.

I try to be the best mom I can.  But no matter how hard I try to fill that void, I know I can never fill it.  I cannot be what I am not. It will just have to do.   www.andbabymakes2.co.il

Blessings

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My girls and I spent three glorious weeks in the US this summer with our family.  Aside from the shopping, going to the United States is wonderful because while my parents are here for an extended period each year, going to the States gives my girls the added benefits of spending time with their aunts, uncles, and cousins; using their English 24/7; visiting places that I went to as a child and of course, the seemingly endless supply of love, hugs, treats and the presence (and presents) from their grandparents.

While there, we spent five days at the beach with my sister and her family.  On Friday night, before Kiddush (blessing of the wine), my brother in law, as is his habit, blessed his children.  I never paid much attention before.  In my childhood home, my father's custom was to bless us only before Yom Kippur and while I do include them in my blessings when I light my Shabbat candles, I don’t actually put my hands on their heads and say a special blessing.  For those of you unfamiliar with the blessing, it basically asks Gd to make them like the four matriarchs; Sarah, Rivka, Rachel and Leah.

 If you have been reading my blog for a while, or if you actually know me, then you can attest to my "zagginess" In other words, when everyone zigs, I zag.  Not in a rebellious way, but with my very own "Ellie twist".  So while I do think the four mothers have many traits that I would like my girls to have, I can't help but add my own values into the mix.

Today at gan (nursery school) the teacher told me that Shira, my eldest, can take care of herself and that I did an amazing job instilling independence and the ability to know her own mind in her (and Maya).  I took the compliment.  But it got me thinking. I too am an eldest child.  Maybe it is part of the burden we first born carry; survival, independence, strong wills.  These, in my opinion are important qualities.  But, as I get older, and look back on my life, I'm not sure that these qualities have always served me well.  I have an incredibly difficult time showing vulnerability; how sensitive I am, how hard life can be, and how it would be so nice to have someone to lean on, to give me a hug and show support.  Not always to have others assume that I'm fine, capable, competent, "amazing".

 In the last three years I have heard my own accolades sung so many times. "Two kids on your own", "you made a holiday meal for 12 AND you have two kids on your own", "I barely get through the day with one and a husband and you have two kids on your own". I do all that, yes… but I am a mom with two kids on my own. And it is HARD and lonely and sometimes scary and overwhelming and wrought with decisions that may or may not be the right ones.  While it is nice to not have to check in with someone all the time, sometimes it would be nice to have to check in with someone. It would be nice for my kids to have more balance in the value system they are taught. So as we come closer to the Day of Judgement, this is the blessing I wish you angel girls:

My dearests Shira and Maya, I wish you strength and the ability to achieve anything and everything you want.  That you have the humility, courage and modesty of our Four Mothers, that you learn independence and survival from your mother but that you also are able to show your sensitive sides, your vulnerabilities and yes, sometimes your neediness. That you are competent and can take care of yourselves but sometimes it is nice to be taken care of. Learn how to let people see that side of your personalities.

I wish you both health, joy, peace of mind, and that you continue to grow into the most beautiful, amazing, smart girls that I have been lucky enough to have and to raise. I love you always and forever.

Wishing you (and all of you) a gmar chatima tova.  May you be inscribed in the book of life.

Moments

There are moments when you look at your child and realize how worth it all the hard work is.  Before I had children I never really gave much thought to the work entailed.  I would see moms in synagogue on a long day, say, Rosh Hashana, who came with toys, treats, food, changes of clothes and never once  did I give a thought to how much is involved in getting all that packed and a clothed, kempt child out the door and to the destination of choice in a (somewhat) timely fashion.  The kids were usually adorable; especially at my kids' age (three) and the moms were usually pretty well dressed and smiling.

Let me draw you a picture of the behind the scenes:

Me: Shira, let's go get dressed for shul (synagogue).

Shira: No, Maya! As she goes running across the house gleefully contradicting mommy

Me: Maya honey, let's go get dressed.

Maya: No, Shira! As she too erupts into usually darling peals of laughter but at the moment not such a cute sound.

I then go into their room, pick out clothes and as they come running in with shrieks of "No ME!" or "SELF" we finally get dressed.  My girls put on their own shoes and after 7 requests to put them on the correct feet, we go to the bathroom to brush teeth and wash faces. 

I then go to shower. By the time I'm dressed, they are naked. Lest you suggest I try dressing first and then get them ready, this is an option but one that I have tried and rejected due to the hot sticky summer weather. In other words, by the time I get them dressed I'm so uncomfortably hot and sweaty that I want to get right back into the shower. Maybe we will try this method again when it cools off a little. 

Then with packed bags that make some people's suitcases for two weeks abroad seem sparse, we leave.  There are of course last minute problems like pacifiers, blankies and crying since we (meaning ME) has decided that blankies no longer leave the house. We then have the good bye ceremony whereupon we  say bye bye bayit (house) bye bye blankie…and then we actually leave, make it all the way downstairs, into the stroller, out the front door and….."Mommy PEEPEE".

I am by now feeling trickles of sweat dripping down my back.

Peepee finished we go! I am by now thoroughly exhausted. Have I mentioned it is 10am???!!

The stroller ride is pleasant and calm is restored. My dress is now stuck to my back but I look down at my angels with their hair brushed and coiffed, their clean rosy faces, their little holiday outfits and I melt.

I have never once even for a second regretted my decision to have children. Having said that, I do often wonder what is it that makes us WANT to have them to begin with? I assume it is for all the reasons we are familiar with and sometimes societal pressure and as I've discussed in previous posts; our maternal (and paternal) instinct.  But this is hard stuff. I thought the first year was hard, and it is but in a completely different way.  It is physically exhausting. You completely lose yourself in the wants and needs of your infant and you are constantly trying to figure out what is wrong and how to make it better.

But three…this is hardcore. True, there are far less physical demands. They walk and talk and eat and use the potty by themselves. They can tell you if they're not feeling well. But GD FORBID you put an apple with a blemish only seen under a microscope on a blue plate when they wanted the red plate. Or the shrieks and cries if you put six Cheerios into the cup instead of seven. Indescribable meltdowns over what adults consider nothing.  In moments of calm I feel for them.  They are trying so hard to be big girls and independent and constantly learning new things. Every day is new and fascinating…how cool is that? But they are really still babies in very many ways and it is our job to help them. I love explaining things to them but how many times can a person ask why???!!! How many times in the space of five minutes can someone repeat your name? Or the same question? How do you keep your sanity? I am finding three to be thoroughly challenging and spectacular at the same time. I wish I could keep a video recorder on constantly because the things they say and do and dress themselves in is priceless and what builds that indescribable feeling of family. 

Last night I was watching Project Runway.  It was the episode where they bring the designers' families onto the show.  The families always bring the photo albums. It struck me that no matter what, our family is our roots, our support, our network, our love, our comfort, and the thorn in our side.  Those pictures are the fabric of our lives together; of all those moments threaded together, of holidays and arguments and family vacations and sick days when my mom made me tomato soup and grilled cheese and bought me paper dolls to play with. I remember this as though forty years haven’t passed. This is family. And so, the meltdowns and endless trips to the bathroom, the testing, the defiance, the beauty, the joy is so perfect that my heart swells remembering my past and my girls' present and how I pray for many future moments with them.

Wishing you a happy, healthy, fertile, peaceful, and prosperous year filled with all the ups and downs that are part of family.

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Life of Honey

This past Saturday, we had friends come over for a play date. The mom is a little older than I and she too has twin daughters slightly older than my girls.  Once they warmed up, the kids and the moms had a lovely afternoon.  During the course of our chat, the mom and I eventually shared our stories.  She told me that her family had not been at all supportive when she told them she was embarking on the journey to solo motherhood. She went through a long arduous process wrought with ups and downs hormones and frustration on her own. My heart ached for what she went through; especially because I had been there. I wished I had known her then so I could’ve been there for her.

She then asked me if my family was supportive all along.  Although I have been asked this question many times before, this time a light bulb went off (on?) and I was able to give my family a huge "like". Other than an initial conversation with my mom that was mostly a Q&A session with silly questions like "why would you want to have a baby?" and "do you think you can handle the responsibility?" she was completely supportive.  My dad, who is usually kept out of these sorts of discussions in our house, once confronted, not only gave his blessing but showed love and support in a way I had never seen before.  I had no doubt that my mom would be behind me, she always has been no matter what.  She is that kind of mom.  My dad has always been far more critical. He is also of a generation that doesn’t really get the ways of 2012. He is far more traditional, although ironically, his own life has been one of "off the beaten path" as well.

Lest you think the support ends there, my family lives in the neighborhood I grew up in. When we moved there I was 12 and about 75% of the families were Jewish of which 50% were observant.  Today, the neighborhood is mostly observant, even black hat (hareidi) and it is very common to see the bathrobe/snood set walking around on shabat followed by four to six kids…you get the picture.

Once I decided that I was going forward with my decision, I gave very little thought to my parents' circle or the people of the 'hood.  I live 10,000 miles away.  My community is very diverse, modern and open minded.  My synagogue is orthodox as well but we have gays and straights, marrieds and singles, more observant and slightly less observant members.  Egalitarianism is greatly respected.  The women in our shul (synagogue) actively participate.

The year my girls were born we went to Chicago for the holidays.  I really didn’t think about how my presence with two kids no husband or head covering would be perceived. People knew, my dad, the now great supporter had thrown a kidush (party in synagogue) in the girls' honor.  What completely awed me was my former elementary school principal's reaction.  This is a man who I have always believed to be one of the lamed vavnikim. (36 great righteous men).  I have always admired and respected him greatly.  I had asked him to make a bracha (blessing) at my wedding and when he agreed to my request he told me that he rarely accepts this sort of invitation since if he did he would likely be at a wedding or two or three daily, but in my case he made an exception, although I don’t know why. I am hardly a paragon of virtue or religious observance.  One of the heartbreaks of my marriage falling apart was the shame that this man had blessed me and I was letting him down.

In any event, fast forward to the day in question, a Saturday afternoon, August 2010.  It is shabat afternoon. All my mother's friends have come by to see the babies.  A knock on the door. My rabbi's wife!!!!

Now, the Mrs. is a woman that I have always greatly admired and respected as well as her husband but in a completely different way.  Any of you who have grown up in a strictly orthodox community know that one of the cornerstones is the cookie cutter quality. The Mrs. Was anything but.  Intellectual, attractive, outspoken. She always dressed appropriately but fashion forward and cool.  Her wig was cool, she never looked dowdy, frumpy, or well…cookie cutter.  She always had something to say and it was always intelligent, thought provoking and slightly different from the template responses of the community which I found, even as a teenager, to be stifling.

So here she is, standing in our doorway.  Coming to wish me mazal tov from her AND THE RABBI!!!!!!!!

So yes, I have a life of honey.  G-d has blessed me in so many ways.  I have amazing parents who have always been supportive and "there".  My extended family and friends too, have been loyal, loving and have taught me many important life lessons.

My community here in Tel Aviv; I cannot say enough about the support they offered after my girls were born; meals and groceries brought to my door.  Challot and visits to the hospital, which was a distance from where we all live.  When they found out I was staying at a hotel in the hospital on shabatot to be near my kids (I don’t drive on the sabath), they chipped in and paid for a weekend.  Yes, I have a life of honey.

It has taken me a long time to appreciate my parents. I must admit for a long time I had a sense of entitlement that is something most children have and outgrow but this child took longer than most.

I am blessed. Hashem (G-d) has given me two gifts and because of them, in three short years, I have grown and stretched and dug deep to become a better person and someone they can hopefully, look up to and respect.

Maybe the July heat is getting to me; those who know me well know I don’t generally gush. I want to thank all those near (and far) and dear that your support and kindnesses are NOT givens. I don’t know what I have done to deserve the outpouring of benevolence but you have inspired me and humbled me. Thank you.www.andbabymakes2.co.ilhttp://andbabymakes2.co.il