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Writings on Motherhood, Judaism, and Happily-Ever-Afters

Serenity Reigns

I’m better.  Julie ended up crying herself to sleep (because really, sometimes you just have to let them go.  I don’t advocate CIO for infants or babies, or really, for toddler you can actually console, but that girl had reached the point where she was lying on the floor sobbing and yelling for me to go away – so I left her there for ten minutes, and finished cleaning the living room, then scooped her up against her will, laid her down, nursed her for two minutes and she was out like a light), and I was able to get dinner made.

Arlen came to get Jordyn and we had dinner, lit the Shabbat candles and it was… peaceful.  Relaxed.  Serene even. And now the house is in shambles, yet again, but all three of my kids are snuggled up together.  Jessica is reading to the other two, and everyone is happy.

These are the moments when I think I’m doing it right.  A nice counter balance to earlier. In the end, it always does calm down.  The insanity peaks and then… they chill.  Marc called, he’ll be home closer to nine thirty than ten thirty, which means that Julie, at least, will still be awake when he gets home.

The realtor emailed me, we’ve got a few more houses to go see tomorrow, and one of them might be perfect.  I’m trying to remind myself that there’s no pressure or time limit.  I’d like to be settled before the fall, but that’s four or five months away.  We’ve got time.  There’s no rush.    And really, the longer it takes, the more time I have before I have to pack.

So, for tonight, I’ll finish cleaning up.  Again.  And I’ll listen to Jessie reading to her little brother and sister, and then I’ll put them all into jammies, get teeth brushed, books read, and bodies down to bed.  And I’ll crawl into bed, and listen to Julie tell Marc about her day, and try very hard to remember how very lucky I am.  How much I’ll miss this, one day, when they’re all grown up and out of the house.  When my house is clean, and I’m not doing a load of laundry every day and running the dishwasher on a nearly constant basis.   Because it’s incredibly easy to get caught up in the monotony and the minutiae of all that goes along with raising kids.  But the challenge is to be able to look past the crumbs on the floor and the endless requests for more food, more drinks, more of everything.  More time, more attention.

It won’t last forever – which is both excellent and heartbreaking.  I should try harder to remember that when it’s so overwhelming that I get lost.

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