My New Year: A Lesson in Compromise and Hope

 

Kalev in his Yom Kippur finery

We just celebrated the Jewish New Year. It is one of my favorite times of the year—filled with hope, spirituality and renewal. But this year it came so incredibly fast. I enjoyed Rosh Hashanah—did some apple art projects with Kalev and made some yummy festive apple dishes to celebrate. Enjoyed the family service and Tashlich. Really wished I could have attended the other services but we couldn’t find a sitter and since they were during Kalev’s bedtime and naptime, it made things difficult. So I dealt with my annoyance and compromised there—this year Matt would get to attend Erev Rosh Hashanah (the evening service) and the morning service since I felt Kalev needed me to put him to bed and down for his nap. And my main thing that I’ve really recognized in myself and in the person, and mother, I want to be is my need to meet Kalev’s needs to the best of my ability. So I stayed home. Is that why the Days of Awe flew by and all of a sudden it was Yom Kippur? How did that happen? Usually I am at my most introspective during these days, really thinking about who I am, what I have done, and what I want to change for the next year. This is when I make my new year’s resolutions. I don’t do it January 1^st; during the Jewish New Year I am feeling more spiritual and more in tune with myself. Therefore it’s the ideal time for deep thinking, planning, and goal setting. The resolutions I create are a combination of what I want to accomplish in the next year and what transgressions I committed in the past year that I want to cease and change for next year. But this year the days went by so fast that all of a sudden it was Kol Nidre (the evening service of Yom Kippur) and I realized I hadn’t done my deep thinking. Who had I harmed? Who did I need to make amends to? What actions did I need to cease? What did I want to do differently next year? What were my resolutions? And the super big intense question of all—holy crap, would I be inscribed in the Book of Life when I had forgotten to do all this? I had ten days to do this thinking and suddenly I was freaking out and looking deep inside myself as I nursed Kalev to sleep.

Luckily we have the internet. And boy did I use it that night. If I could not be at services sitting next to my husband, listening to the wisdom of our very special and intelligent Rabbi, I was going to do my own Yom Kippur session at home while my baby slept in my arms (this became quite fitting once I made some important connections about myself and my wants). So I read and read about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, articles and blogs, stories of High Holiday experiences now and of a long time ago. I came across a strategy for making and keeping your resolutions. I quickly jotted down my responses:

            To be more patient.

            To not yell as much.

            To not be as judgmental about others.

            To not be as envious of others.

            To be more mindful.

            To parent with love not coercion.

            To schedule our time with activities of love, not obligation.

            To say “no” more. (Not to my husband of course! ;-))

When I reviewed these resolutions I realized that this year they were really internal, about changing and improving my inner self and how that is reflected upon and connected to those I love. And that’s kinda cool because that’s what I keep saying I want but this quick knee-jerk response exercise showed me that this is indeed who I am right now. And that gave me a really nice feeling of peace. Of being okay with the compromises I am making so that I can be this person I feel I need and want to be.

Having this knowledge of myself and where I wanted to be really helped me frame the rest of Yom Kippur in a way that was most meaningful to me. I again did not make it to all the services; that was my compromise between the Jew I want to be and the mother I am and need to be. We all went to the family service. By looking at this service through my new “deep thinking” lens, I didn’t think about it like I had on Rosh Hashanah—how short it was, how I missed the truly awesome sermon our Rabbi led on Rosh Hashanah that everyone keeps talking about, or how much we kept singing that same darn “Turning” song. Instead, I focused on how this service really simplified the holiday for me so that I could get the nuts and bolts of the special day in about 30 minutes. Not ideal for the Jew I want to be, but essential for the mother I am to the 22-month-old toddler that still couldn’t sit through the entire service. When Kalev and I went home to nap we watched some of the fun High Holiday you tube videos we had discovered (Aish’s Rosh Hashanah Rock--Kalev is soooo going to be a breakdancer! and The Fountainhead’s Dip Your Apple). Definitely no Rabbi Alfi sermon, but again, the simple message in a fun way that I can remember, think about, and most importantly share and teach to my son, who absolutely loves these videos and keeps asking for “more, more” even though Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are now over. So definitely another compromise that I came to accept was right for this time and place in my life.

The one grown-up service I got to attend most of was the afternoon service, where we went through the Avodah. As we started the responsive reading of this section I was kinda like, oh great, I get to stay for the super sad stuff of an already intense day. But as I listened to a Holocaust survivor read in Yiddish and then in English about his brothers in the gas chambers of Amsterdam I realized I was here attending this service for a reason. I don’t like sad stuff. I rarely read about the Holocaust because it makes me so sick. I like happy ending books. I like Rosh Hashanah when we’re singing and feeling uplifted. But here I was, deep into the saddest of the sad, reading some really graphic stuff. This was part of the point of this day--to look in the mirror, to face death, and to question whether what you face is what you want to be. And thinking that way turned my uncomfortable sad feelings into feelings of hope. He made it. We as a people made it. There are lots of sad and icky and scary things going on in this world right now but we have the power to make a difference. I’m not a political person but as I sat listening to the melody of this man, this survivor’s, voice, I felt the deep knowledge of power and connection. Power in choosing paths, in electing our government leaders, in teaching of right and wrong and in freedoms. All things I want to teach my son. This connection and inspiration gave me lots of hope for myself, my family, and my community. And it gave me hope for the person I saw in my mirror.

I did not have a High Holy Day experience like I usually have. I did not attend all the services, I missed some really neat sermons, and I connected with the holiday more as a child would than an adult. But I think I got the message. I want to change. I want to cleanse my mistakes, start fresh and make next year a good year. I want to be a better person. I want to be inscribed in the Book of Life. My experience this year helped me clarify that yes, I want to be a better mother and I want to teach and guide my son to want and do all these things as well, and that it is really okay to put this want as a priority. I may need to compromise on some things and think of creative ways to meet my other priorities and interests but for now, I am a mother. It’s not the easiest thing I’ve done but it’s who I want to be, I’m the happiest and the most peaceful I feel that I have ever been, and I have the joy and responsibility of teaching these lessons to my son. As I think back over this special day, I am filled with hope of giving these gifts of knowledge, of peace, of choice, of connection, of community, and of love to my sweet baby.  

Why Haven’t I Learned Yet?

Last night I lay in bed discouraged. What had started as a beautiful, fun, spontaneous day had turned into a challenging, exhausting, frustrating afternoon and evening. I watched my now-peaceful son sleeping next to me and hated myself for the totally not-mindful mama I felt I acted like the past few hours. I know better. I read about it, I write about it, I talk about it endlessly—how to be a mindful, intentional, responsive, and respectful parent. So why haven’t I learned how to do it yet?!

The following were questions about this issue of responding mindfully that I jotted down last night when I was too tired to write here:

·      Why haven’t I learned that just because I am progressing down my to-do list it doesn’t mean Kalev doesn’t need me right at that exact moment?

·      Why haven’t I learned that even if Kalev just had a three-hour nap that he could still be tired?

·      Why haven’t I learned that it is more important to dance with my son than do the dishes or make dinner?

·      Why haven’t I learned that cuddling and nursing until Kalev signals he’s ready for the next activity would prevent the battle for my attention and my fixation on getting things done?

·      Why haven’t I learned that time is too short and so very soon Kalev won’t be asking me to play with him? Or to cuddle him? Or to nurse him?

·      Why haven’t I learned that it so important, one of the most important things, to just be, instead of do, do, do?

Framing these questions made me feel better. I know I have learned the answers to them, it’s just hard to always remember when I’m tired and preoccupied. And it’s hard, in fact impossible, to always remember and implement these answers and responses every single time. I know I have it in me to give Kalev the response he needs and deserves and usually I do a pretty good job. And I know from our childbirth class that being mindful is about realizing this knowledge, even when the knowledge shows your mistakes and ways you did not want to act.

I also know one of the most important things we are so lucky to have as parents—that when Kalev woke up with a huge smile on his face and greeted me with kisses, he had already forgiven me even before I apologized. And when I told him I was sorry about how I acted and that it was not right for me to be so impatient and frustrated, he nodded and smiled, then took my hand to go and play. And, because I had learned a little bit, I followed. Even though the dishes are still in the sink. Even when I mess up, when I’m not mindful, when I’m not the best mother in the world, I’ll get another chance to implement all these things I’ve learned. That’s what’s so great about a loving relationship—since I do okay most of the time, I get some slack when I mess up. There’s no perfect parent and mistakes happen. It’s how we repair them and how we act the next time that shows how mindful we are as parents, and teaches our children how to forgive, ask for forgiveness, and know that tomorrow is another day to try again. And since today is Friday, I have a feeling today is going to be a good day!