Let me not count the numerous ways that my life has changed, though allow an attempt to explain the after picture on the energetic level. Aside from the obvious physical challenges and hormonal emotions and mental stress, I’ve discovered another arena of transfiguration from my own yoga rabbi triplet-mom experience. Mostly the triplet parent life altogether was a big quake that took everything apart and left me shaky. I knew from the beginning, by finally being pregnant and all, and with three little dots appearing in my uterus, that my life had become extraordinary. What I could not have verbalized until now, and doubtfully so, is the pervasive alteration of my self from the cellular level on to the energetic system.
For one, my life turned inwards. Slowly at first, then I became overcome with protecting the lives inside me. To be clear I wasn’t obsessive, just responsible, and triplet pregnancies are really so on the verge that they require vigilance. It might seem strange, with twin pregnancies so common and not seeming so foreign, but when you add a third or more fetus, even the miraculous nature of pregnancy and childbirth gets pushed beyond its limit. As my OB repeatedly said, and I repeatedly write, the body was not designed for this. Not yours, not mine, not even Octomom who claims that it was all so easy. The sensations I reported were different than other pregnancies and harder to address over the phone, so the doctor wanted a call and visit anytime anything unusual was occurring. That was actually all of the freakin’ time, and I used my discernment (resistance vs. fear) to figure out what merited a call. I had regular appointments every two weeks anyway, then every week, usually with an ultrasound to peek into that dormitory of a womb that was puffing up like a blowfish up inside me. Inwards I turned, to these souls – to guard them with fierce love-, and it demanded tight boundaries blocking out negativity that could so easily do damage.
The belly, about where the baby borrows space, is the center of self-knowing, of the gut, of intuition. Energetically, according to the chakra system and according to the sefirot, it is the place where all is held in balance, including self-esteem and confidence. Much more should be said about this, which chakras are involved, the kabbalistic parallels too– another time though. I’ve been searching for writing about how that identity center changes during pregnancy and in the absence of another expert I have developed my own theory. This is in progress, and my first attempt at explaining my thoughts about this process.
In pregnancy the identity center gets displaced, replaced in a sense by the fetus that literally takes center stage. The woman’s own energetic self becomes layered with this other being, competing for blood, nutrients, energy and space. These factors are all limited so finding a balance demands a great deal on the whole person; physically, mentally, emotionally, in regards to time, space, thought, movement, energy intake, etc. There is a narrow market for real estate in the body, and the growing baby not only protrudes outward but pushes inward, rearranging the interior arrangement of vital organs, even growing up into the ribs and lungs taking up airspace. Yes, the uterus has amazing capabilities for accommodating its baby, for reckoning nutrients and hydration, but I don’t think it is designed to communicate and makes nice with the bladder, the kidneys, the lungs, the vagina, the stomach nor the intestines nor legs or feet. The rest of the body gets drawn in unwittingly and can be gracious or cranky. With multiple pregnancies, of course the pace is faster and the changes more radical; the demands multiply exponentially and push every boundary to the breaking point. Understanding the physical pressures is the beginning. Then consider the energy centers that provide a woman’s sense of self, knowing truth, holding soul strength. What happens when the center of identity and intuition is pushed aside? Where does it go? How does it mutate and adapt to nurture the child and the mother-baby bond? With complete merging of identify, how does the identity-intuition center of the woman ultimately respond with resilience so she can be herself again? Once the organs and energy centers have been forever changed (and blessed with this relationship), can the self and soul certainty ever return? How long does this rebound take after the womb has been emptied and the baby begins a life outside of the mother’s body?
Today is the 13th day of the Omer.
This is Part One; Part Two should arrive tomorrow.
Please share your responses, thoughts, and your own experiences in the comment section below.
Showing posts with label triplets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label triplets. Show all posts
Monday, May 2, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Minus Seventy-Seven
Help me get clear about this: am I total failure? Or just a partial failure? It’s one thing when you start out strong and eventually run out of steam. But this year I started out super late the first night, already empty, tired, with only my aspirations for a meaningful daily Omer writing practice on the fumes of resolve. Counting even with the blessing is something I have managed to do each night, and maybe I should celebrate that accomplishment for its own merit. Instead, I berate myself for failing to fulfill my promise to write and post each night the OOCC. On the topic of that internal critic, I’m realizing the irony of choosing the topic “Counting to Clarity” when at times I can barely form sentences and often I just want to be quiet.
When a friend noticed that I had lost some weight a few months back I acknowledged it saying “finally my body is starting to come back, and depending on if I use actual pre-pregnancy weight or my during fertility treatment weight, I only have 30-40 more pounds to go”. That’s how I see it- how far I am from my goal, from looking and God willing feeling, like myself. The subtlety there is that from the inside I am forever changed and the larger sizes and overstretched skin doesn’t even begin to reveal the story.
For months I could tell you I have thirty more pounds to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, and the last time I was pregnant was over 2 ½ (or now closer to 3) years ago. And you might think, my goodness, isn’t that a lot? Many women don’t even gain that much weight for the pregnancy, much less take three years to lose it. Or maybe you would be more compassionate and understanding about the way that pregnancy totally changes a body physically and chemically, how there is no time to care for yourself with a newborn or toddler, how most new mothers struggle with self care and losing weight they have gained while expecting or even after baby comes home.
But then that friend turned the tables and asked how much I’d lost. It sounded so much different when I heard myself say that I’d lost seventy pounds. That is huge. How big I was loomed even bigger when I pictured dropping that much weight. The remaining fraction seemed smaller and less significant compared to the majority of pounds that were already behind me. I still had thirty more to go to the number on my driver’s license (130), though in reality I used to be 135, and after bloating from months of fertility treatments I was 145 before finally getting that BFP (big fat positive)! As an act of motherly love, as all mothers do, I sacrificed my body for my babies. Following expert advice I gained a ton of weight for the sake of my triplets. 235 was where I stopped counting, having gained over one hundred pounds.
And now I’ve lost seventy-seven pounds and don’t want to take credit for it as an accomplishment. It feels more like something that just happened, thankfully, luckily, blessedly. As deliberately as I wanted to get pregnant and then to gain lots of weight for my extreme pregnancy, I have no idea why getting pregnant with good old S-E-X didn’t work for us, nor do I know why it took so long to lose weight, or why it finally started happening. From the doctor’s office I updated facebook with my happy news (down seven more for a total of seventy-seven pounds gone!) and love that friends are celebrating with me. Alongside the congratulatory comments (to which I still want to say “but there’s still 23 lbs more!”) are questions about my secret to weight loss.
The secret revealed to me today is the importance of celebrating and sharing our celebratory moments. Just as for sure I have shared my pain and insanity, I have tried to share my sweetness, joy and laughter. I absolutely love that people feel healing from seeing pictures and videos and status updates from the triplet toddler show that is my life. That sharing has been deliberate, and I revel in my girls. Celebrating them is not the same as appreciating myself, and that is a challenge for me. Though clarity itself still seems far away, I am counting on its eventual arrival and will do my part by trying to replace negative perception with positive self -commentary. As certain as tonight is the tenth night of the Omer, I have succeeded in counting each night this year, and tonight I am contributing to OOCC. As of today, I am seventy-seven pounds lighter than I was in June 2008, and today I celebrate my success. Today I seek healing for myself and offer my story for service.
For your comments:
What are you celebrating? What success can we celebrate with you?
When a friend noticed that I had lost some weight a few months back I acknowledged it saying “finally my body is starting to come back, and depending on if I use actual pre-pregnancy weight or my during fertility treatment weight, I only have 30-40 more pounds to go”. That’s how I see it- how far I am from my goal, from looking and God willing feeling, like myself. The subtlety there is that from the inside I am forever changed and the larger sizes and overstretched skin doesn’t even begin to reveal the story.
For months I could tell you I have thirty more pounds to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, and the last time I was pregnant was over 2 ½ (or now closer to 3) years ago. And you might think, my goodness, isn’t that a lot? Many women don’t even gain that much weight for the pregnancy, much less take three years to lose it. Or maybe you would be more compassionate and understanding about the way that pregnancy totally changes a body physically and chemically, how there is no time to care for yourself with a newborn or toddler, how most new mothers struggle with self care and losing weight they have gained while expecting or even after baby comes home.
But then that friend turned the tables and asked how much I’d lost. It sounded so much different when I heard myself say that I’d lost seventy pounds. That is huge. How big I was loomed even bigger when I pictured dropping that much weight. The remaining fraction seemed smaller and less significant compared to the majority of pounds that were already behind me. I still had thirty more to go to the number on my driver’s license (130), though in reality I used to be 135, and after bloating from months of fertility treatments I was 145 before finally getting that BFP (big fat positive)! As an act of motherly love, as all mothers do, I sacrificed my body for my babies. Following expert advice I gained a ton of weight for the sake of my triplets. 235 was where I stopped counting, having gained over one hundred pounds.
And now I’ve lost seventy-seven pounds and don’t want to take credit for it as an accomplishment. It feels more like something that just happened, thankfully, luckily, blessedly. As deliberately as I wanted to get pregnant and then to gain lots of weight for my extreme pregnancy, I have no idea why getting pregnant with good old S-E-X didn’t work for us, nor do I know why it took so long to lose weight, or why it finally started happening. From the doctor’s office I updated facebook with my happy news (down seven more for a total of seventy-seven pounds gone!) and love that friends are celebrating with me. Alongside the congratulatory comments (to which I still want to say “but there’s still 23 lbs more!”) are questions about my secret to weight loss.
The secret revealed to me today is the importance of celebrating and sharing our celebratory moments. Just as for sure I have shared my pain and insanity, I have tried to share my sweetness, joy and laughter. I absolutely love that people feel healing from seeing pictures and videos and status updates from the triplet toddler show that is my life. That sharing has been deliberate, and I revel in my girls. Celebrating them is not the same as appreciating myself, and that is a challenge for me. Though clarity itself still seems far away, I am counting on its eventual arrival and will do my part by trying to replace negative perception with positive self -commentary. As certain as tonight is the tenth night of the Omer, I have succeeded in counting each night this year, and tonight I am contributing to OOCC. As of today, I am seventy-seven pounds lighter than I was in June 2008, and today I celebrate my success. Today I seek healing for myself and offer my story for service.
For your comments:
What are you celebrating? What success can we celebrate with you?
Friday, April 22, 2011
Favorite Number
written last night: Tonight I think I can count three seconds before I pass out from exhaustion. Long hours driving with late Seder nights and kids coming into our bed crying were one thing. An overly ambitious "vacation" day today was what did me in. [fall into sleep]
written today about yesterday: In three days, we drove 5 hours to Michigan, had 2 Seders, moved from the original hotel that was filthy and falling apart to a nice clean hotel, and drove back to Chicago. The earliest I got to sleep each of those three nights was midnight, and as is normal on family road trips I didn't get any quiet time alone, not even in the bathroom folks. After a fun filled family fest and a relatively quiet late late night drive home, I woke up in my own bed. With an out-of-town friend visiting Chicago and no Gan for the girls, I decided to take everyone to a museum. Decisions made on lack of sleep don't usually turn out well. Nevertheless, we made it a full day, beyond what I can usually expect of myself. We started at the Museum of Science and Industry and watched the chickies hatch, put on three diapers for nap time in the car ride to pick Haley up from school in Indiana (and back), then went to Navy Pier. Haley wanted and got a hair wrap and the little girls found sparkly little purses that I was happy to get as a souvenir. Three purses - one pink, one purple, one black. We had lunch in the car, a noise melt down in the museum, one minor accident in the store. It was six pm by the time we got home, all cranky and hungry. The three little girls were in bed by eight, and by then I could barely move. I did manage to say the bracha and count the third day of the Omer.
"Today is the third night of the Omer", and as you know, I'm always counting threes. It has become my number. If I ever played a team sport (those of you who know me well are laughing now) I would have the number three on my jersey. Even though I have four girls, the triplet three trumps everything. You've heard this before, I've thought it before, these three souls leave an imprint of three on everything in my world. I'll leave it at that for now. The third day of the Omer is ending and Shabbat is coming soon. I pray that Shabbat brings us rest we all need after an exhausting week - and that once the tiredness recedes we will see the beauty of the holiday experience.
written today about yesterday: In three days, we drove 5 hours to Michigan, had 2 Seders, moved from the original hotel that was filthy and falling apart to a nice clean hotel, and drove back to Chicago. The earliest I got to sleep each of those three nights was midnight, and as is normal on family road trips I didn't get any quiet time alone, not even in the bathroom folks. After a fun filled family fest and a relatively quiet late late night drive home, I woke up in my own bed. With an out-of-town friend visiting Chicago and no Gan for the girls, I decided to take everyone to a museum. Decisions made on lack of sleep don't usually turn out well. Nevertheless, we made it a full day, beyond what I can usually expect of myself. We started at the Museum of Science and Industry and watched the chickies hatch, put on three diapers for nap time in the car ride to pick Haley up from school in Indiana (and back), then went to Navy Pier. Haley wanted and got a hair wrap and the little girls found sparkly little purses that I was happy to get as a souvenir. Three purses - one pink, one purple, one black. We had lunch in the car, a noise melt down in the museum, one minor accident in the store. It was six pm by the time we got home, all cranky and hungry. The three little girls were in bed by eight, and by then I could barely move. I did manage to say the bracha and count the third day of the Omer.
"Today is the third night of the Omer", and as you know, I'm always counting threes. It has become my number. If I ever played a team sport (those of you who know me well are laughing now) I would have the number three on my jersey. Even though I have four girls, the triplet three trumps everything. You've heard this before, I've thought it before, these three souls leave an imprint of three on everything in my world. I'll leave it at that for now. The third day of the Omer is ending and Shabbat is coming soon. I pray that Shabbat brings us rest we all need after an exhausting week - and that once the tiredness recedes we will see the beauty of the holiday experience.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Nearly blew it before it began
I nearly blew it. Close to midnight, moments after zipping and locking up the little girls (triplets under 3 years old up way too late for the second night in a row) in their portable tent beds (we highly recommend the Peapod) I suddenly whispered to my closed-eyed husband. Startling him out of falling asleep in the hotel bed, I quietly recited the bracha and counted the first night of the Omer. After almost completely forgetting, I wanted a witness, though not too reliable in his slumber, to hear me announce the first night.
(The girls are excited to ride the hotel luggage cart, which they call "shopping cart", and to stay up super late for Passover Seders.)
It's usually counted at the Seder table, that is if you actually do the whole Seder from start to finish. There were young adult years when Seders were that generous luxurious time for exploration and late night singing of that last "next year in Jerusalem." But not here, our Seder order ended with the festive meal, as many families do from lack of interest in the whole exacting deal. Seder actually means "order" and there are 14 steps this at home table ritual. Full of symbolism, interesting objects and foods, the telling of the Haggadah includes stories, laws and songs all intended to elicit discussion. Even guised as "traditional" and viewed by attendees as way too long, these Seders did not complete the order nor fulfill it in more than the most basic reading. Not to say that it wasn't a great way to connect with family nor anything but an amazing feat of a feast. The meal was delicious and the sixty plus family members were wonderful company. The children demonstrated their beautiful singing voices, showed off their day school education in Hebrew fluency and song familiarity and were adorable - including my 2 year olds who each sang the beginning of Ma Nishtana. The Passover production was impressive for its scale, efficacy, beauty and carrying out of traditions. That said, of the four cups, we only poured two. Elijah and Miriam were both ignored, and I felt their absence. And of other steps skipped, we neglected to count the Omer.
I married into a large family that actually has a family club that meets monthly and for annual events in the Detroit suburbs where most still reside. They have enormous pots and pans for mass cooking and everything else needed to make a special and elegant holiday. The aunt and uncle who host Passover actually built their house to accomodate the huge crowd. The Seder takes place in the elegant living room, that more resembles a hotel lobby. Coming from my own family with our own (different) traditions and as a rabbi who has thought lots about my ideal Seder experience (and led some good ones), I can offer a commentary full of compliments and constructive criticism, but for tonight my only comment is this. We didn't count the Omer. How many of you counted the Omer together at Seder last night?
To be fair to the leader, I myself didn't even think about completing the Seder. I was too busy trying to catch up with the cousins and listen out for cries of my children, the new inductees to the basement mayhem.
So tired from the cleaning and kashering and cooking and setting and serving, sometime we lose sight of the spiritual cycle. The big day takes so much out of us, we totally or nearly forget that it is a kick off event, not the end itself. Just like wedding planning it consumes as much time as the engagement allows, preparing for the relationship of marriage is usually neglected. Immersing in the preparation is its own process, and also part of a bigger picture. Pause for an aha moment - that's the story of my with baby triplets. Diapering, feeding, cleaning, dressing the children - it doesn't leave freedom to think, to read, to evaluate. I suppose no matter how little prep we do, those next stages will arrive (God willing) for us to find ourselves in bed counting the Omer seconds before sleep - or having that intimate conversation - or envisioning the children with their own families.
The girls were so wired even at midnight that after jumping on the bed and running around the room I just forced them into their Peapods and locked the zipper (with twist ties - did I ever tell you how they trashed the hotel room in Memphis?) Efforts at crying lasted less then thirty seconds, then they were too tired to try. One second of silence was followed by a wimper from E, then came 2 seconds of silence. I was counting the space in between the crying when I realized that I hadn't counted the first night of the Omer!
More than just counting, before we actually count the day of the Omer (out of 49, listed by days and weeks), we say a bracha (blessing). If you remember to count the Omer at night (when the "day" begins on Jewish time) you begin with the blessing. If you don't count until the next day, then you can't say the blessing. Admittedly I'll be happy if I count to 49 night or day, though I'd love to get all the blessings in. Blessings are special, they are blessings after all.
Tonight I said the bracha in the dark somewhere between Detroit and Chicago, using Omer Counter 2.0 on my iPhone. By then I was sitting in the way back, between Haley and N. One girl wanted me to help her sleep and the other needed me once she awoke.
Earlier in the ride it had been really quiet. I had nothing more to say to the driver and I realized that it was a good time for a talk with myself. I led myself in a little internal Seder of my own. I started with some venting, then went a bit deeper into a section that regrettably was edited out of our Seders, before I bored myself and was ready to eat some chocolate. The Four Children is a section of the telling that I've always loved in text and through numerous artistic depictions. There are four archetypes of children that can be seen as four different types of religious experience, four learning styles, four personalities, or four family roles. In discussing them we try to identify ourselves and get to hear our families thoughts about our self perception. I love that the archetype with which we identify most can change from year to year. I have been the Hacham, the wise child, immersed in Torah Study, fascinated with laws and traditions. I have been the Rasha in more recent years; the one who feels apart from tradition and questions the value of organized religion. For me being the Rasha was questioning faith or feeling mired in struggle without relief that. The all consuming life changing triplet pregnancy and parenthood also casts me as the Tam, the simple one who doesn't know what to ask - or who is indifferent to the answer. Sometimes the thread holding us in the tribe is very thin.
My realization tonight is that this year I relate to the One Who Cannot Ask. In some ways I've lost my voice. Different than when I was younger and learned how my voice had been taken away, then worked on taking it back, now something different is happening. I'm not clear on it all yet, which I remind myself is why the theme of the Omer is "Counting to Clarity". There's no Haggadah that tells me what I'm supposed to say to the world, no written curriculum for my spiritual development and no job description that's a role written for me. I know who I am and, at the same time, I don't know. I don't know what is to come and where I should be so vocal, or where I should listen for guidance. I'm not clear how to let spirit guide me and also act responsibly to my family's financial needs. I am both articulate and also inarticulate. I am both gifted with unique talents and expertise and also need variety and flexibility. I both want to honor what I'm meant to bring to the world and also have some balance and enjoyment. I am both clear about what I stand for and unclear about where my next step will lead.
Thankfully, I have this counting and the season that leads to clarity. One day at at time, I will bless the path from narrowly defined dark enslaved places to the free and clear and bright illuminated destination.
Tonight/today is the second day of the Omer.
For you: what was missing from your Seder experience that you want to include in your self-led Seder? What traditions/patterns in your life work? which don't work for you?
(The girls are excited to ride the hotel luggage cart, which they call "shopping cart", and to stay up super late for Passover Seders.)
It's usually counted at the Seder table, that is if you actually do the whole Seder from start to finish. There were young adult years when Seders were that generous luxurious time for exploration and late night singing of that last "next year in Jerusalem." But not here, our Seder order ended with the festive meal, as many families do from lack of interest in the whole exacting deal. Seder actually means "order" and there are 14 steps this at home table ritual. Full of symbolism, interesting objects and foods, the telling of the Haggadah includes stories, laws and songs all intended to elicit discussion. Even guised as "traditional" and viewed by attendees as way too long, these Seders did not complete the order nor fulfill it in more than the most basic reading. Not to say that it wasn't a great way to connect with family nor anything but an amazing feat of a feast. The meal was delicious and the sixty plus family members were wonderful company. The children demonstrated their beautiful singing voices, showed off their day school education in Hebrew fluency and song familiarity and were adorable - including my 2 year olds who each sang the beginning of Ma Nishtana. The Passover production was impressive for its scale, efficacy, beauty and carrying out of traditions. That said, of the four cups, we only poured two. Elijah and Miriam were both ignored, and I felt their absence. And of other steps skipped, we neglected to count the Omer.
I married into a large family that actually has a family club that meets monthly and for annual events in the Detroit suburbs where most still reside. They have enormous pots and pans for mass cooking and everything else needed to make a special and elegant holiday. The aunt and uncle who host Passover actually built their house to accomodate the huge crowd. The Seder takes place in the elegant living room, that more resembles a hotel lobby. Coming from my own family with our own (different) traditions and as a rabbi who has thought lots about my ideal Seder experience (and led some good ones), I can offer a commentary full of compliments and constructive criticism, but for tonight my only comment is this. We didn't count the Omer. How many of you counted the Omer together at Seder last night?
To be fair to the leader, I myself didn't even think about completing the Seder. I was too busy trying to catch up with the cousins and listen out for cries of my children, the new inductees to the basement mayhem.
So tired from the cleaning and kashering and cooking and setting and serving, sometime we lose sight of the spiritual cycle. The big day takes so much out of us, we totally or nearly forget that it is a kick off event, not the end itself. Just like wedding planning it consumes as much time as the engagement allows, preparing for the relationship of marriage is usually neglected. Immersing in the preparation is its own process, and also part of a bigger picture. Pause for an aha moment - that's the story of my with baby triplets. Diapering, feeding, cleaning, dressing the children - it doesn't leave freedom to think, to read, to evaluate. I suppose no matter how little prep we do, those next stages will arrive (God willing) for us to find ourselves in bed counting the Omer seconds before sleep - or having that intimate conversation - or envisioning the children with their own families.
The girls were so wired even at midnight that after jumping on the bed and running around the room I just forced them into their Peapods and locked the zipper (with twist ties - did I ever tell you how they trashed the hotel room in Memphis?) Efforts at crying lasted less then thirty seconds, then they were too tired to try. One second of silence was followed by a wimper from E, then came 2 seconds of silence. I was counting the space in between the crying when I realized that I hadn't counted the first night of the Omer!
More than just counting, before we actually count the day of the Omer (out of 49, listed by days and weeks), we say a bracha (blessing). If you remember to count the Omer at night (when the "day" begins on Jewish time) you begin with the blessing. If you don't count until the next day, then you can't say the blessing. Admittedly I'll be happy if I count to 49 night or day, though I'd love to get all the blessings in. Blessings are special, they are blessings after all.
Tonight I said the bracha in the dark somewhere between Detroit and Chicago, using Omer Counter 2.0 on my iPhone. By then I was sitting in the way back, between Haley and N. One girl wanted me to help her sleep and the other needed me once she awoke.
Earlier in the ride it had been really quiet. I had nothing more to say to the driver and I realized that it was a good time for a talk with myself. I led myself in a little internal Seder of my own. I started with some venting, then went a bit deeper into a section that regrettably was edited out of our Seders, before I bored myself and was ready to eat some chocolate. The Four Children is a section of the telling that I've always loved in text and through numerous artistic depictions. There are four archetypes of children that can be seen as four different types of religious experience, four learning styles, four personalities, or four family roles. In discussing them we try to identify ourselves and get to hear our families thoughts about our self perception. I love that the archetype with which we identify most can change from year to year. I have been the Hacham, the wise child, immersed in Torah Study, fascinated with laws and traditions. I have been the Rasha in more recent years; the one who feels apart from tradition and questions the value of organized religion. For me being the Rasha was questioning faith or feeling mired in struggle without relief that. The all consuming life changing triplet pregnancy and parenthood also casts me as the Tam, the simple one who doesn't know what to ask - or who is indifferent to the answer. Sometimes the thread holding us in the tribe is very thin.
My realization tonight is that this year I relate to the One Who Cannot Ask. In some ways I've lost my voice. Different than when I was younger and learned how my voice had been taken away, then worked on taking it back, now something different is happening. I'm not clear on it all yet, which I remind myself is why the theme of the Omer is "Counting to Clarity". There's no Haggadah that tells me what I'm supposed to say to the world, no written curriculum for my spiritual development and no job description that's a role written for me. I know who I am and, at the same time, I don't know. I don't know what is to come and where I should be so vocal, or where I should listen for guidance. I'm not clear how to let spirit guide me and also act responsibly to my family's financial needs. I am both articulate and also inarticulate. I am both gifted with unique talents and expertise and also need variety and flexibility. I both want to honor what I'm meant to bring to the world and also have some balance and enjoyment. I am both clear about what I stand for and unclear about where my next step will lead.
Thankfully, I have this counting and the season that leads to clarity. One day at at time, I will bless the path from narrowly defined dark enslaved places to the free and clear and bright illuminated destination.
Tonight/today is the second day of the Omer.
For you: what was missing from your Seder experience that you want to include in your self-led Seder? What traditions/patterns in your life work? which don't work for you?
Monday, April 19, 2010
20 - Triplets Twice
Six children under two, with only two birth dates amongst them, gobbled down an entire Tel Aviv pizza in minutes. Not a nursery school field trip, just two triplet families grabbing a rare unplanned moment to connect. That's how we roll, last minute, whatever works, as often as we can – which in reality means three times total in twenty months. For the first time they are big enough to play with one another, explore, share toys, lift gallon water weights, share solid food. Barely beyond the baby stage, these six cuties give their parents a chance to chat. Introduced by our ob/gyn, our relationship is founded on the sole shared experience of triplet life, not to be underestimated as anything less than an all-encompassing lens on life. One of the skills of being a triplet parent, we have learned how to distill parenting and housekeeping into powerful reductions without waste of time, energy or resources. Our survival depends on eliminating the extraneous and accepting assistance whenever offered or available. In the course of a couple hours watching the little ones and over dinner, we catch up on the trios, the older sibs, marriage, work, extended family, personal time (rather the lack of it).
I recalled memories of meeting this couple and bringing my months old girls along, visiting the expectant mom at home while on bed rest, holding their newborn babies in the hospital, stopping in to give support to a sister in the way that only one who survived can provide. Not that I was long past her milestones, our children are only seven months apart, six gestationally. At this point they share similar developmental achievements and interestingly there are parallel personalities in the birth order of our two sets. The baby As, the first borns, are both easy-going, sweet mush types and the baby Bs, next born, are both little pistols. The baby Cs have less obvious similarities but both are angelic daddy's girls.
Only Friday I re-published recollections of counting the days of my high-risk pregnancy (Anticipating the Omer: Counting of a Different Kind) and I re-read it too. The lived truths within the essay are still hard to hold; though much more healing has happened even since last year. Most of the time I don't remember the details about trying to conceive, learning about the triplet pregnancy, enduring it and extending it as long as possible for the sake of my babies while sacrificing my self. Isn't it so easy to forget painful moments and live presently in happier times? When I was in college first reflecting on my childhood there were so many blanks; with time work I filled them in and made sense of it all. There is a time to forget and a time to remember. Memory can protect us in both ways, enabling us to select what we need to survive and warning us what cannot be repeated. Memory can enable happiness too, providing contrast and gratitude.
My presence for this triplet mom during her pregnancy was modeled for me by an another amazing multiple mom. A common experience brought us together and deep friendships developed on both sides, between me and my family and each of the other families. In addition to having multiples, each of these three families has four children and we especially appreciate a warm home full of love and bodies. We know better than to judge, value gemilut hasadim (acts of lovingkindness), live modestly, and respect each others' accomplishments as parents and partners.
Friends help us remember who we are, where we've been, why we're here and how we want to move into the future together. They hold up the memories that may be buried away from pain so we can integrate them and honor them in the present. Friends see our strengths and success and remind us of those too. They bless our memories and create new memories with us.
Today is the 20th day of the Omer, that is 2 weeks and 6 days of the Omer. Today is Yom Hazikaron, a day of memory.
Practice: Take at least a minute of silence to remember lost memories. Consider how they shaped your present and how presence to them can bring blessings for you. Remember the memories of loved ones lost, honor their memory with action. Remember the sacrifice those you knew and did not know gave for your values, to give the gifts you cherish the most.
I recalled memories of meeting this couple and bringing my months old girls along, visiting the expectant mom at home while on bed rest, holding their newborn babies in the hospital, stopping in to give support to a sister in the way that only one who survived can provide. Not that I was long past her milestones, our children are only seven months apart, six gestationally. At this point they share similar developmental achievements and interestingly there are parallel personalities in the birth order of our two sets. The baby As, the first borns, are both easy-going, sweet mush types and the baby Bs, next born, are both little pistols. The baby Cs have less obvious similarities but both are angelic daddy's girls.
Only Friday I re-published recollections of counting the days of my high-risk pregnancy (Anticipating the Omer: Counting of a Different Kind) and I re-read it too. The lived truths within the essay are still hard to hold; though much more healing has happened even since last year. Most of the time I don't remember the details about trying to conceive, learning about the triplet pregnancy, enduring it and extending it as long as possible for the sake of my babies while sacrificing my self. Isn't it so easy to forget painful moments and live presently in happier times? When I was in college first reflecting on my childhood there were so many blanks; with time work I filled them in and made sense of it all. There is a time to forget and a time to remember. Memory can protect us in both ways, enabling us to select what we need to survive and warning us what cannot be repeated. Memory can enable happiness too, providing contrast and gratitude.
My presence for this triplet mom during her pregnancy was modeled for me by an another amazing multiple mom. A common experience brought us together and deep friendships developed on both sides, between me and my family and each of the other families. In addition to having multiples, each of these three families has four children and we especially appreciate a warm home full of love and bodies. We know better than to judge, value gemilut hasadim (acts of lovingkindness), live modestly, and respect each others' accomplishments as parents and partners.
Friends help us remember who we are, where we've been, why we're here and how we want to move into the future together. They hold up the memories that may be buried away from pain so we can integrate them and honor them in the present. Friends see our strengths and success and remind us of those too. They bless our memories and create new memories with us.
Today is the 20th day of the Omer, that is 2 weeks and 6 days of the Omer. Today is Yom Hazikaron, a day of memory.
Practice: Take at least a minute of silence to remember lost memories. Consider how they shaped your present and how presence to them can bring blessings for you. Remember the memories of loved ones lost, honor their memory with action. Remember the sacrifice those you knew and did not know gave for your values, to give the gifts you cherish the most.
Friday, April 16, 2010
18 - Counting of a Different Kind
Counting of a Different Kind: Anticipating the Omer
written and originally published in April 2009
Last year was different in a whole lot of ways. Every Passover I resolve to succeed at counting the Omer daily. How hard could it be to count 49 days? It starts out easy at the Seder on the second night. Today is the first day of the Omer. All I have to do is remember to say one sentence each day for the next 48 days, those leading up to the next major Jewish holiday Shavuot. Every year I failed; it seems the challenge wasn't big enough or meaningful enough for me to take so seriously. After all Shavuot would arrive seven weeks later whether or not I was counting days.
Last year counting was a matter of life and death. Counting is a serious thing. A superstitious Jewish custom forbids counting people as numbering lives diminishes them. This wisdom came long before the Shoah when the Nazis tattooed numbers for name replacements on our people's arms. At the same time, we encourage community and require ten people gathered for most prayer services, and even three for an official opening to the grace after meals.
In ancient times these days between Passover and Shavuot were a time of uncertainty and a struggle of hope and faith and fear and longing. My ancestors in the wilderness left slavery for a promising yet precarious future and they marched on through the desert motivated by a glimmer of redemption that they didn't fully expect. When we look back today, we know that the reward was the revelation of Torah on Shavuot, but they did not know that. Their grumbling and faltering shows that they barely believed, nor expected a gift of any sort.
One year ago Passover I was in my 25th week of pregnancy with triplets. Most people count months of pregnancy but when you are carrying triplets you actually count days. Zero percent of triplet pregnancies make it full term, and they are so fragile that there is a high chance of spontaneous abortion until you reach 20 weeks. Fifty percent of triplet pregnancies are delivered by 32 weeks, minimally eight weeks premature. Until 28 weeks gestation chances of survival are tiny, and the likelihood of serious life altering complications are great. Every single day the babies stay inside the womb and grow increases their chances for life and for health.
Once the 20 week mark went by I took a breath - just one. Then I looked at the calendar and set my next goal. Instead of the 28 week mark, I would switch to the Jewish calendar, striving to count through the entire period of the Omer and through Shavuot. That would put me at exactly 33 weeks. From there I would reevaluate and set a new goal.
In contrast to years past, all I could do last year was count. I counted another day of keeping my babies alive, another day for them to grow, another day for building fat reserves to keep them warm, another day for their lungs to develop so they could hopefully breathe on their own. Each day in the womb reduces the days in the NICU by multiples.
When we held our first Seder I was 25 weeks and 5 days pregnant with my triplets. I was already confined to home, barely able to walk, triplet heavy with babies. My belly was already the size of a full term singleton pregnancy. Instead of a cloth napkin I used a table cloth. I counted my weight gain. I counted the clothes I outgrew. I counted the vitamins I swallowed. I labored over breath. I had few moments of sleep or comfort the entire pregnancy.
I counted to keep myself going. I did not know how much I could endure nor what outcome would befall me or when. I was at the mercy of fate and fellow. I had no choice but to let people help, to force a smile on my pained face to offer thanks for food delivered, meals served. It is difficult now for me to recount the details and to face the reality that I endured. Triplet pregnancies are amazing and all, but they are not pretty. As my doctor said again and again, bodies aren't made to carry three babies. It is miraculous that my uterus accommodated three babies, yet no cell of my being managed to make it through unaffected.
I went into labor towards the end of Shavuot. Even though I reached my goal of completing the Omer counting, 33 weeks was still too soon. As much as I wanted to meet these babies, I wanted them to grow bigger inside me even if it meant tolerating more hugeness and more heaviness and more hell. If I were to be really honest about the whole thing I would tell you in detail how I lost all my dignity, how vanity and self were decimated as I surrendered moment by moment with determination to do right by these souls.
Writing these words, I cannot continue to be present to the teary memories of those thirty-three weeks and the four days that followed, so I fast forward until Shabbat arrived with an eerie yet elegant air of serenity. The Shabbat Queen surely entered and changed the quality of time as I enjoyed dinner with my husband, step-daughter and father-in-law. The next morning I awoke to silence and sunrise over Lake Michigan. Upon awakening I couldn't predict that counting days was complete and by the next morning and for the rest of my life I would be counting in threes. Counting with confidence in the outcome is relegated to the past. Now I do not expect that just because I am counting the revelation will be granted. Far from simple, when we begin to count we cannot expect we will reach completion. When each day is a matter of life or death, we must count carefully and consciously.
Tonight, Friday April 16, 2010, after Shabbat arrives it will be the 18th day of the Omer. 2 weeks and 5 days of the Omer. 18, chai, life!
Thank you for participating in the Online Omer Counting Community, for reading, for following, for sharing your comments and sharing with your friends. Shabbat Shalom!
written and originally published in April 2009
Last year was different in a whole lot of ways. Every Passover I resolve to succeed at counting the Omer daily. How hard could it be to count 49 days? It starts out easy at the Seder on the second night. Today is the first day of the Omer. All I have to do is remember to say one sentence each day for the next 48 days, those leading up to the next major Jewish holiday Shavuot. Every year I failed; it seems the challenge wasn't big enough or meaningful enough for me to take so seriously. After all Shavuot would arrive seven weeks later whether or not I was counting days.
Last year counting was a matter of life and death. Counting is a serious thing. A superstitious Jewish custom forbids counting people as numbering lives diminishes them. This wisdom came long before the Shoah when the Nazis tattooed numbers for name replacements on our people's arms. At the same time, we encourage community and require ten people gathered for most prayer services, and even three for an official opening to the grace after meals.
In ancient times these days between Passover and Shavuot were a time of uncertainty and a struggle of hope and faith and fear and longing. My ancestors in the wilderness left slavery for a promising yet precarious future and they marched on through the desert motivated by a glimmer of redemption that they didn't fully expect. When we look back today, we know that the reward was the revelation of Torah on Shavuot, but they did not know that. Their grumbling and faltering shows that they barely believed, nor expected a gift of any sort.
One year ago Passover I was in my 25th week of pregnancy with triplets. Most people count months of pregnancy but when you are carrying triplets you actually count days. Zero percent of triplet pregnancies make it full term, and they are so fragile that there is a high chance of spontaneous abortion until you reach 20 weeks. Fifty percent of triplet pregnancies are delivered by 32 weeks, minimally eight weeks premature. Until 28 weeks gestation chances of survival are tiny, and the likelihood of serious life altering complications are great. Every single day the babies stay inside the womb and grow increases their chances for life and for health.
Once the 20 week mark went by I took a breath - just one. Then I looked at the calendar and set my next goal. Instead of the 28 week mark, I would switch to the Jewish calendar, striving to count through the entire period of the Omer and through Shavuot. That would put me at exactly 33 weeks. From there I would reevaluate and set a new goal.
In contrast to years past, all I could do last year was count. I counted another day of keeping my babies alive, another day for them to grow, another day for building fat reserves to keep them warm, another day for their lungs to develop so they could hopefully breathe on their own. Each day in the womb reduces the days in the NICU by multiples.
When we held our first Seder I was 25 weeks and 5 days pregnant with my triplets. I was already confined to home, barely able to walk, triplet heavy with babies. My belly was already the size of a full term singleton pregnancy. Instead of a cloth napkin I used a table cloth. I counted my weight gain. I counted the clothes I outgrew. I counted the vitamins I swallowed. I labored over breath. I had few moments of sleep or comfort the entire pregnancy.
I counted to keep myself going. I did not know how much I could endure nor what outcome would befall me or when. I was at the mercy of fate and fellow. I had no choice but to let people help, to force a smile on my pained face to offer thanks for food delivered, meals served. It is difficult now for me to recount the details and to face the reality that I endured. Triplet pregnancies are amazing and all, but they are not pretty. As my doctor said again and again, bodies aren't made to carry three babies. It is miraculous that my uterus accommodated three babies, yet no cell of my being managed to make it through unaffected.
I went into labor towards the end of Shavuot. Even though I reached my goal of completing the Omer counting, 33 weeks was still too soon. As much as I wanted to meet these babies, I wanted them to grow bigger inside me even if it meant tolerating more hugeness and more heaviness and more hell. If I were to be really honest about the whole thing I would tell you in detail how I lost all my dignity, how vanity and self were decimated as I surrendered moment by moment with determination to do right by these souls.
Writing these words, I cannot continue to be present to the teary memories of those thirty-three weeks and the four days that followed, so I fast forward until Shabbat arrived with an eerie yet elegant air of serenity. The Shabbat Queen surely entered and changed the quality of time as I enjoyed dinner with my husband, step-daughter and father-in-law. The next morning I awoke to silence and sunrise over Lake Michigan. Upon awakening I couldn't predict that counting days was complete and by the next morning and for the rest of my life I would be counting in threes. Counting with confidence in the outcome is relegated to the past. Now I do not expect that just because I am counting the revelation will be granted. Far from simple, when we begin to count we cannot expect we will reach completion. When each day is a matter of life or death, we must count carefully and consciously.
Tonight, Friday April 16, 2010, after Shabbat arrives it will be the 18th day of the Omer. 2 weeks and 5 days of the Omer. 18, chai, life!
Thank you for participating in the Online Omer Counting Community, for reading, for following, for sharing your comments and sharing with your friends. Shabbat Shalom!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
16 - Lessons on Kabbalah
Thought I'd arrived in the looney bin the way all five veterinary staff were oohing and ahhing and baby-talking to my dog as we stepped through the threshold of the office. Really, they were going ga-ga about how cute, how sweet, how excited he was, each of them calling him by name. It seemed way over the top and was more gooey affection than I think the dog has ever received.
When I walk into the pediatrician's office with my truly gush-worthy adorable triplets the staff barely even says hello. They have never greeted me much less my children with more than a glance. Aware of the numerous issues, I have made every attempt to make nice, introduce myself, ask for their names, call them by name. Once I even brought chocolate for the front staff. Still, no smiles, no love. What's wrong with this picture?
The beauty of this omer counting practice is that I can't do it prematurely. The mitzvah requires counting after nightfall which cultivates a certain waiting and listening for the message to become clear. Just like the practice of Spiritual Direction cultivates discernment. Sure, this morning I was sure that I could write a whole entry about how I no longer think dogs are people, even though they might think themselves human, and that with huge expenses and time demands from four children my dogs have been demoted back to canines.
One story I will still share is how I responded aghast to someone who asked while I was pregnant what we would do with the dogs once the triplets arrived. “What will you do with your child when you have another one?” I questioned. Ha! Now it's time for me to admit that I was illusional. Mea culpa. S'licha. During one near breakdown during the first survival year, with great awareness of my limited resources – time, money and sanity, I decided the dogs were done. My first baby and her adopted buddy had become a burden I couldn't bear so my husband claimed sole responsibility for their care. Still here, there's no chance they'll get to go to day care as my vet suggested today unless I can easily afford to enroll my real human children in classes.
Earlier I honked at a car that was picking up speed driving in the shoulder and possibly pulling out into my lane and her pedestrian friend yelled out a nasty comment to me. Before that I stopped at a green light for an imminently approaching ambulance and the car in the left lane gunned it through the intersection. Things like this make me so mad. Not road rage mad, just frustrated and sad. Why are people so on edge? Or so indifferent?
I trust my childrens' lives to the pediatrician's office and they can't even bring themselves to smile and be friendly. When I call with an issue I have to leave a message and it takes hours to get a call back; the vet office talked to me right then, and called me back exactly when promised with a message from the doc. They scheduled me for the very next morning; getting an urgent appointment at the pediatrician's office takes pressure, sometimes a demand. Several times my attempts failed and I had to go to the ER with a $150 co-pay (per child!) because the pediatric practice schedule was full. Many times I have considered switching offices and probably will do it one day, but I love our doctor. She is the reason we chose this practice and the reason we stay.
The contrast between the Veterinary Office and the Pediatrician's office is stark. Although I try to shy away from politics this is surely about health care policy and our country's priorities. Backed up by the huge rise in pets given up for adoption because their owners can't afford to feed themselves in this economy let alone feed their pets, I know pet ownership is a luxury. And this veterinary office has more art on the walls than my childrens' pediatric office.
Health care for humans is not a luxury, it is a right. And providers should be just as excited and eager to see each patient as these crazy animal people are to see my hyper dog. An enthusiastic reception from my vet people shouldn't be such a surprise. Service like that should be expected and required from all health care providers – especially those who treat humans, who save our lives and support our return to health. Medicine is medical, I get that, yet people are more than bodies. We are souls and need to be treated as such.
In Hebrew the word for reception (such as at a hotel) is kabbalah. Hospitality is implied in every meeting and greeting. Within the word is the action of welcoming the person who approaches with the same mystical and sacred intent as with which we receive revelation, light, and all the greatest gifts. That is how my dog was greeted today and should be how we each greet each other in every instance.
And, for this 16th day, two weeks and 2 days of the omer, I offer a blessing for justice and dignity, for honor and love. For every member of our human family, and also for our animal friends.
Today is the 16th day of the Omer.
Practice: It's a good time to practice breathing. In. Out. Slower inhale, slower exhale. Deeper inhale, deeper exhale. Inhale peace and goodness, exhale and let go, release. Breath life, your soul. Follow the circle of life in and out of your body, with curious attention to your breath. With each breath, relax a different part of your body, beginning with the top of your head, slowly through each area, all the way to your toes. Let balance and love and compassion establish themselves in your present moment.
When I walk into the pediatrician's office with my truly gush-worthy adorable triplets the staff barely even says hello. They have never greeted me much less my children with more than a glance. Aware of the numerous issues, I have made every attempt to make nice, introduce myself, ask for their names, call them by name. Once I even brought chocolate for the front staff. Still, no smiles, no love. What's wrong with this picture?
The beauty of this omer counting practice is that I can't do it prematurely. The mitzvah requires counting after nightfall which cultivates a certain waiting and listening for the message to become clear. Just like the practice of Spiritual Direction cultivates discernment. Sure, this morning I was sure that I could write a whole entry about how I no longer think dogs are people, even though they might think themselves human, and that with huge expenses and time demands from four children my dogs have been demoted back to canines.
One story I will still share is how I responded aghast to someone who asked while I was pregnant what we would do with the dogs once the triplets arrived. “What will you do with your child when you have another one?” I questioned. Ha! Now it's time for me to admit that I was illusional. Mea culpa. S'licha. During one near breakdown during the first survival year, with great awareness of my limited resources – time, money and sanity, I decided the dogs were done. My first baby and her adopted buddy had become a burden I couldn't bear so my husband claimed sole responsibility for their care. Still here, there's no chance they'll get to go to day care as my vet suggested today unless I can easily afford to enroll my real human children in classes.
Earlier I honked at a car that was picking up speed driving in the shoulder and possibly pulling out into my lane and her pedestrian friend yelled out a nasty comment to me. Before that I stopped at a green light for an imminently approaching ambulance and the car in the left lane gunned it through the intersection. Things like this make me so mad. Not road rage mad, just frustrated and sad. Why are people so on edge? Or so indifferent?
I trust my childrens' lives to the pediatrician's office and they can't even bring themselves to smile and be friendly. When I call with an issue I have to leave a message and it takes hours to get a call back; the vet office talked to me right then, and called me back exactly when promised with a message from the doc. They scheduled me for the very next morning; getting an urgent appointment at the pediatrician's office takes pressure, sometimes a demand. Several times my attempts failed and I had to go to the ER with a $150 co-pay (per child!) because the pediatric practice schedule was full. Many times I have considered switching offices and probably will do it one day, but I love our doctor. She is the reason we chose this practice and the reason we stay.
The contrast between the Veterinary Office and the Pediatrician's office is stark. Although I try to shy away from politics this is surely about health care policy and our country's priorities. Backed up by the huge rise in pets given up for adoption because their owners can't afford to feed themselves in this economy let alone feed their pets, I know pet ownership is a luxury. And this veterinary office has more art on the walls than my childrens' pediatric office.
Health care for humans is not a luxury, it is a right. And providers should be just as excited and eager to see each patient as these crazy animal people are to see my hyper dog. An enthusiastic reception from my vet people shouldn't be such a surprise. Service like that should be expected and required from all health care providers – especially those who treat humans, who save our lives and support our return to health. Medicine is medical, I get that, yet people are more than bodies. We are souls and need to be treated as such.
In Hebrew the word for reception (such as at a hotel) is kabbalah. Hospitality is implied in every meeting and greeting. Within the word is the action of welcoming the person who approaches with the same mystical and sacred intent as with which we receive revelation, light, and all the greatest gifts. That is how my dog was greeted today and should be how we each greet each other in every instance.
And, for this 16th day, two weeks and 2 days of the omer, I offer a blessing for justice and dignity, for honor and love. For every member of our human family, and also for our animal friends.
Today is the 16th day of the Omer.
Practice: It's a good time to practice breathing. In. Out. Slower inhale, slower exhale. Deeper inhale, deeper exhale. Inhale peace and goodness, exhale and let go, release. Breath life, your soul. Follow the circle of life in and out of your body, with curious attention to your breath. With each breath, relax a different part of your body, beginning with the top of your head, slowly through each area, all the way to your toes. Let balance and love and compassion establish themselves in your present moment.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
15 - doing my days
At a shiva house today two people were talking about me literally behind my back. Standing right next to me they were discussing my personal and professional commitments, just wondering to each other out loud how I manage my life. I was sitting, or standing near the food table, tending to my flock of three -wiping faces, cleaning up spills, enjoying the zen of motherhood.
This morning, and yesterday too, I awoke to a peaceful house, rather my husband gently woke me to tell me it was time to get up. It was so quiet, I was so comfortable, so soundly sleeping, so content in my body laying in bed. I didn't believe that it was already 9:30 am and the girls were quiet. What a great start to the day.
I sensed that this peace would pervade the day. And it did. My first vision of the girls upon opening their door was silliness. Two grinning girls completely naked, the third dressed and equally proud of herself. We ate breakfast together, and I made a to do list. We played.
Yesterday at nap time I loaded them up for a ride. For the first time ever, all three walked to the car. No pulling the car up to the door while hoping they are safe inside, carrying them out one at a time and then going back for bags. One single procession. How amazing is that? So amazing! We stopped to see my Grandma so she could see with her own eyes that Hallel really can walk now. She had been really worried about my easy going girl. I took them to my mom at work and they followed their Savta around the high school like little duckings. I ducked out to go to a meeting with a favorite colleague. We had lots of fun at Savta and Grandma Jerry's house, more play and a delicious dinner. Home late at night, I designed Haley's siddur cover.
Today during nap time I assembled new furniture for Haley's room, purchased to make things more comfortable for my dad. Then, I wrote my day 14 piece, and sent an email correspondence about an exciting job possibility, and another about another promising position.
After nap time we again walked out to the car and drove to our friend's house for a shiva visit. The girls played in the yard, sat on a big kid swing, fell in the mud, rode around on big wheels and scooters, all tended to by the Silver kids. They spotted spaghetti and ate their fill. They traipsed around the house like little menschen. I kept a loose eye on them and allowed them to explore and to mingle, to nosh too. I managed to squeeze in some brief conversations with the family and with my shul people, really good people. After searching for and finding all six shoes, two friends (former congregants) and I each carried out a girl. I arrived home with five minutes till the start of a business webinar. I turned over bed time to Abba and signed on to focus on my passion of providing people the best organic skin and body care.
Tomorrow I begin a new class, teaching Rav Yoga at a day school enrichment program, and next on my agenda is to design an amazing first day for these children. At the moment I don't have child care arranged for the afternoon, so that is also a priority.
In case you were wondering, like the women tonight were in full voice, there's the outline of my week thus far. Yes, I am mostly occupied with mommying and yes, my professional passions round out my life. What a blessing that I love my work and love my people!
This is for today. I imagine that life post-Omer will look quite different. Uh-oh. Pause. Aha! I may have just discovered my counting calling for the year – a transition from mostly mommying into a working Wonder Woman. Time to break out the Feminum cuffs.
for today: what is worth sharing about your daily life? what brought a smile to your face today? have you discovered what this Omer counting period means for you? are you transitioning in these seven weeks, intentionally or not?
This morning, and yesterday too, I awoke to a peaceful house, rather my husband gently woke me to tell me it was time to get up. It was so quiet, I was so comfortable, so soundly sleeping, so content in my body laying in bed. I didn't believe that it was already 9:30 am and the girls were quiet. What a great start to the day.
I sensed that this peace would pervade the day. And it did. My first vision of the girls upon opening their door was silliness. Two grinning girls completely naked, the third dressed and equally proud of herself. We ate breakfast together, and I made a to do list. We played.
Yesterday at nap time I loaded them up for a ride. For the first time ever, all three walked to the car. No pulling the car up to the door while hoping they are safe inside, carrying them out one at a time and then going back for bags. One single procession. How amazing is that? So amazing! We stopped to see my Grandma so she could see with her own eyes that Hallel really can walk now. She had been really worried about my easy going girl. I took them to my mom at work and they followed their Savta around the high school like little duckings. I ducked out to go to a meeting with a favorite colleague. We had lots of fun at Savta and Grandma Jerry's house, more play and a delicious dinner. Home late at night, I designed Haley's siddur cover.
Today during nap time I assembled new furniture for Haley's room, purchased to make things more comfortable for my dad. Then, I wrote my day 14 piece, and sent an email correspondence about an exciting job possibility, and another about another promising position.
After nap time we again walked out to the car and drove to our friend's house for a shiva visit. The girls played in the yard, sat on a big kid swing, fell in the mud, rode around on big wheels and scooters, all tended to by the Silver kids. They spotted spaghetti and ate their fill. They traipsed around the house like little menschen. I kept a loose eye on them and allowed them to explore and to mingle, to nosh too. I managed to squeeze in some brief conversations with the family and with my shul people, really good people. After searching for and finding all six shoes, two friends (former congregants) and I each carried out a girl. I arrived home with five minutes till the start of a business webinar. I turned over bed time to Abba and signed on to focus on my passion of providing people the best organic skin and body care.
Tomorrow I begin a new class, teaching Rav Yoga at a day school enrichment program, and next on my agenda is to design an amazing first day for these children. At the moment I don't have child care arranged for the afternoon, so that is also a priority.
In case you were wondering, like the women tonight were in full voice, there's the outline of my week thus far. Yes, I am mostly occupied with mommying and yes, my professional passions round out my life. What a blessing that I love my work and love my people!
This is for today. I imagine that life post-Omer will look quite different. Uh-oh. Pause. Aha! I may have just discovered my counting calling for the year – a transition from mostly mommying into a working Wonder Woman. Time to break out the Feminum cuffs.
for today: what is worth sharing about your daily life? what brought a smile to your face today? have you discovered what this Omer counting period means for you? are you transitioning in these seven weeks, intentionally or not?
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