When Rosh Hashanah commenced Wednesday night, we Members of the Tribe entered into Yamim Noraim, or “The Days of Awe.” These ten days between the festive, two-day celebration of Rosh Hashanah and the serious day of fasting and repentance known as Yom Kippur are a time of self-reflection, a time to meditate on your actions from the previous year and find areas that you can improve.
As a mother of two – a six year old daughter and a one year old son – I can’t help but think about my parenting from the previous year. What did I do well that I want to continue? What am I ashamed of? And can I use that shame to fuel new and better parenting for both me and my kids?
My generation of parents is constantly criticized, by ourselves as much as others. When I think about the childhood of my fellow Kids of the ‘80’s, I honestly envy our parents. Car seats? Who needs ‘em? Coke in a baby bottle? Why not? Stay out until the street lights come on, and then maybe hitchhike your way home. And don’t forget to buy a pack of cigarettes on the way.
As I sat in shul* today, I was urged by the rabbi to find my true self, not the various roles I play. Who am I before G-d**? When I think about that woman, she is vulnerable and confused and frankly scared by this crazy world, but she is certain beyond anything that she loves her children more than she even realized was possible, and she wants for them a future that is bright and beautiful. So I stopped worrying about what is expected of me, and I thought about what I expect of myself.
Last year, I did some things right. I realized that I’m not equipped to handle the demands of a job teaching public middle school that is both a sizable commute from home and is in a community that suffers the problems that come with poverty. I was trying so hard to save the world that I had no self left for my own kids. So I dumped the career that I’d spent twelve years cultivating the moment I earned my National Board Certification and had a huge jump in salary. I took an enormous pay cut, but now when I come home not exhausted and not emotionally spent and not at insane hours, I get to be a present and healthy mom. (This is not to say, by any stretch of the imagination, that I think one should leave a time-intensive career in order to be a good mom. I know many amazing moms who are fulfilled by their careers in such a way that they are fantastic mothers to their children. I’m just saying that it didn’t work that way for me.)
I also worked on repairing the damage caused by a traumatic childhood and young adulthood by working proactively on my mental health. I discovered unhealthy habits – judgmental thoughts, neurotic worrying, not processing anger in the moment and then blowing up later – and have made great strides in improving them.
I’ve shed my previous desire to be perfect, finally accepting that “Perfect is the enemy of the good,” or whatever Voltaire (or someone like him) said. (See? I don’t care that that’s not perfect!) I stopped worrying about being the “Best Mom” by society’s standards. I supplemented with formula at daycare when my breastmilk supply dipped. I bought babyfood for my son when I found I was too tired to make food all the time. I cancelled my daughter’s ballet lessons when I realized it wasn’t worth it to beg her to put on her tights when we were both spent from a day at school.
But I also made some mistakes. Plenty of them.
I fell into a really bad habit of cursing in front of my daughter. I can blame it on the fact that I had to hold it all in all day working with kids, so it just sprung out of me, but that’s a lame excuse. I’ll never be a Puritan, and I’ll always love the emphasis the f-word can put on something, but throwing out a curse word when someone cuts me off in traffic or I stub my toe or my daughter refuses to go to bed only sends me into a negative mental spiral. Plus it expands my daughter’s vocabulary in all the wrong ways.
I screamed. Not a lot. But enough. More than I should. Which is never. I don’t hit, and I’m happy about that, but screaming can be just as detrimental. Again, my stress level was through the roof last year with a new baby at home and a job that ripped my heart out daily and sucked my time away and entailed a really long commute amidst semi-trucks that seemed hell-bent on getting into a wreck with me. I couldn’t scream at the students who called me all kinds of names and refused to work, nor could I scream at the administration that demanded 100% student engagement 100% of the time, no matter what demons the kids were battling at their homes or in their heads. Nor could I scream at the actual drivers of the vehicles who made me crazy on my commute. But that didn’t give me the right to scream at my daughter for not eating her broccoli or my son for trying to fling himself off the changing table during a diaper change.
I looked at my stupid phone too much. I realize I was zoning out, trying to get back to neutral after a crazy day. But that adorable cat video on Facebook is nothing compared to the adorable faces of my kids. (I can watch the video after they go to bed anyway.)
But most of all, I just wasn’t present enough. Here I have these two amazing kiddos, and too many nights I found myself counting down the minutes until bed time.
In this year of 5775***, I know I’ll make mistakes. But I want to move forward with the goal of being the best mom I can be. Realistically, that means sometimes going out on dates alone with my husband or having a night out with friends. It means excusing myself from my beloved family for a hot bath or a glass of wine on the porch. But it also means rolling on the floor tickling my son and telling my daughter bedtime stories and nursing my son in the middle of the night and helping my daughter with homework and making a nutritious dinner for the whole crew. It means snuggling in front of the TV and watching them sleep and saying “no” and meaning it and not backing down no matter how much whining I hear.
It means setting a good example by being respectful and kind to others and working hard and having a good attitude about even the suckier parts of life (like laundry). It means smiling and kissing and hugging and saying “I love you” so much that they get sick of hearing it.
And it means taking note of myself again next year, to find ways I can be better.
L’Shanah Tovah! May this be a happy and sweet year for you all!
Randi is a new contributor to My New Name is Mummy--see her mini-bio here and her personal blog here. Welcome, Randi, and L'Shanah Tovah to you as well!
*Shul is the Yiddish term for synagogue, the Jewish house of prayer. "Shul" can also mean attending worship services-- "I went to shul yesterday."
**Observant Jews usually write G-d out of reverence and the understanding that the Torah commands them not to erase or obliterate the Divine name. And if you haven't written it out in full, it can't be erased!
***5775 is the number of this New Year according to the Jewish calendar which numbers year 0 as the year of the creation of the world.