Last year, I was prepared. I cooked ahead. I froze. I planned menus. I had stacks and stacks of disposable aluminum pans in the basement freezer, all manner of paper goods, grape juice and gefilte fish bought on sale and pulled out when needed. It was calm. It was organized. It was good.
This year, I have a baby and I had stitches in my hand. Nothing happened ahead. And Marika Neni is back in R0mania, and her friend who was supposed to come yesterday did not show. Nothing has been cleaned. There is nothing in the freezer. Nothing nothing nothing.
So today, the day before Rosh Hashana, I woke up, thought about what I'd like to cook, went to the store, bought some groceries, came home, and cooked. I had already done the chicken soup and one batch of challah (okay, almost nothing happened ahead). I made two pans of stuffed cabbage, a big pot of rice and barley and onions and mushrooms for my macrobiotically inclined father in law, franks in blanks for the non-macrobiotically inclined children who will be here for Shabbos lunch, a bowl of bean salad, and, um, another batch of challah. Tonight, I made carrot salad. That was it. I had both kids here, and, well... it was one of those high-volume days. Meaning, a lot of screaming. Iyyar refused to nap all day, and since he wasn't kvetchy about it and I simply had too much to do to spend the whole day trying to get him to sleep, I let him stay awake. With the predictable result of complete hysterical meltdown by 5 pm. He was so exhausted that even when he finally did fall asleep, he would jerk himself awake crying every few minutes. I spent the hours of 4 till 7 trying, completely futilely, to get him to sleep (at least half of that time with him crying alone in the crib or bouncy seat, because he was just as hysterical in my arms and there seemed to be little point). Misery. Miserable baby, miserable Imma.
I tried everything I could think of, and then remembered something a friend had told me once. Sure, it's weird, but I'm desperate. So I ran a warm bath and got in there with him. Magic. He splashed, he wiggled, he thought, hey, this is fun! He pushed his feet around experimentally in the water, looked at me, watched for my response, snuggled into the water and into me. Maybe it's like the womb? All those tense little muscles melted. Happy baby. I changed his diaper, put on his pajamas, got into bed with him and nursed. Happy happy. And he finally... fell... asleep. And I put him down. And walked away. And he stayed asleep. And I exhaled. It was eight o'clock. Still time. Still time to send MHH to the store, still time to pull it off. Still time to do everything I needed to do before my FIL was expected, sometime around 10:30, and I could no longer reasonably expect MHH to be swabbing floors. Then I could finish cooking, and if MHH could clean in the morning when I'll be at work, maybe maybe, I think we can just swing it, I think...
And then...
The doorbell rang. And there I was, totally not dressed to open the door. And it couldn't be my father in law, because we weren't expecting him for HOURS. But it was. So I had to buzz him up. And we have the loudest buzzer on the planet. I closed my eyes and hoped, and buzzed, and
"aaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
woke up the baby.
3 comments:
Actually, it was much easier to get him to sleep the second time around. He was still relaxed, just awake. It only took about fifteen minutes. It was more that now we had a guest, the house was still a wreck and I was no longer at liberty to do everything I needed to do, and M was busy with his dad so not able to be helpful. We actually don't have enough food. Oh well. There's a lot of challah..
Can I send you anything that would help?
I'm not one who deals well with unexpected -- or early -- guests, no matter how fond I may be of them otherwise. And certainly not the way my place looks now...
My empathy grows for you each day. After 2 sons,who slept from 8pm to 8am, We had a daughter! She didn't sleep for her 1st 4 years!! She wouldn't sleep with us, without us,for anyone else-she just required no sleep. I,on the other hand, with 3 children under 4(ok-I was niave)required much more sleep thanIwas getting. When she able to push up on her hands and knees she would spend hours rocking back and forth-making the crib squeek and making me feel like teetering on the edge of a ledge.
My husband would have to in her room to quiet her as my patience usually gave out about 7 pm.
At age 2 when we could reason with her somewhat she would ask to rock for "a little bitsy" and finally sleep for a couple of hours. Then start again. At age four I told her you may rock quietly(the Dr. said it helped her Beta brain waves) and then read books with your flashlight or sing quietly or even watch a video VERY quietly and the rest of us went to sleep.
She is now 27 with a daughter of her own(who has always slept like an Angel!! DARN-I was hoping for what goes around comes around ),is a Marine Staff Sergeant(as is her husband) a Policewoman Watch Commander and Senior AccicdentInvestigator, she now whishe she had slept when she had the chance.
So, Hang on, this too shall pass.
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