It’s Rosh Hashana – again.
Didn’t I just go through this last year?
It’s difficult adjusting to Yomim Noraim as a mother. Usually Rosh Hashana creeps up on me, and I turn around and am like “Holy heck, I gotta shape up!” and then I go to shul, and besides for a botched shmone esrei or two, and counting down an awful lot of pages (although honestly the last two years, davening seemed to fly, [am I growing up?]), I’d usually come away feeling something. That I opened up, bared it all, asked honestly, and modestly. That this year will be a good year, and things will happen and go right, and I’ll get that job, that raise, that recognition. That I’ll be happy, secure, and satisfied. That I’ve been given focus, drive and perspective. I won’t regret this year.
I don’t have that anymore.
My lot right now, is to stay at home with my child, and daven in my living room, while my son pulling at my skirt, and whining for me to read “Oh the Thinks You Can Think” to him. While my husband is pleading for his life, for our happiness, contentment, shaIom, our future, I’m sweeping up Multi-Grain Cheerios, and wiping up mushed bananas my son enthusiastically ground into the kitchen tiles. I shouldn’t complain, I’m not complaining, I just stating the difference, and how it affects me.
I don’t come away with a good feeling, I don’t feel like I succeeded, like I did it right. And this year will be.
Also, as I get older, every year, I realize and appreciate so much more, that Hashem is in my life, directing it, guiding me, and I need him. I look around and see things that happened, things that are happening, and things that will happen, and it all went down this day, last year. And this year, on this day, I’m putting borekas on the blech to warm up, and setting the table with linen napkins, waiting for my husband to come home, and tell me how our life is going to be.
I know, I know, I really know, that this is what I’m supposed to be doing now, that this is where I’m supposed to be, and I can achieve, just where I am, in my place as a Yiddishe Mama,
I feel like I’m missing my chance at life.