Another Day, another Sandwich

Sigh…

Here we go again…

Every morning it’s basically the same story. I drag my tired body out of bed, drag my tired feet to the bathroom, usually with just one slipper on because I’m too tired to look for the other one, then drag my caffeine-jonesing brain to the kitchen, where I experience my only “ahhhh…” moment of the morning.

As I leisurely sip my latte with one hand, I’m frantically scurrying back and forth from the kitchen to the fridge that can’t fit in my kitchen, and making sandwiches with the other hand. Sometimes I light a scented candle to add to the calm and relaxed atmosphere.

It’s as if my hand with the coffee cup is stuck in one spot by the kitchen counter where the mess of sandwiches is being made, and my arm is magically extending all around the kitchen as the rest of my body moves in fast forward time. But my coffee cup hand is leisurely raising itself up and down to a mouth that desperately tries to gulp down some coffee as it’s being pulled from place to place.

Like any of you know what I’m talking about.

Underneath the crazy morning lunch-making disaster, in the middle of which kids are complaining that they can’t find their pants, or they have the nerve to ask for breakfast, or they’re fighting with each other, or all of the above, is a heavy feeling of resignation.

That I feel, I mean. I’m filled with a deep sense of defeat as the most esoteric question in all of parenthood keeps running through my mind: “Why am I bothering?”

Why, oh why, am I making these lunches that most of my kids will bring back unopened? Why am I asking them what kind of sandwich they’d like, when they give me the same annoyed “I don’t know!” every morning? Why am I even hoping against hope that maybe, this one time, they’ll actually open up their sandwiches to see what’s in them? And why do I still get frustrated when they call me from school, complaining they have nothing to eat??

Like any of you know what I’m talking about.

Who knew parenting would be so hard? I had no idea. Did you? All I saw were those cute Huggies commercials with those delicious chunky, plump, fluffy, cute little babies who were always smiling and making cute little noises. I certainly had no idea that those babies would actually grow up one day and talk back, give me attitude, and to my horror, tell me that my delicious food is gross.

But this is what every parent goes through. We know our effort, our devotion, our sacrifice, and our love will never be reciprocated. And if we’re normal, we know not to expect our kids to love us back the same way.  We know that we don’t give our kids everything in order to get them to give back to us.

We do it because we are their parents. Aside from being our responsibility to take care of them and provide for them, we love our kids. And this love is what keeps us motivated to continue taking care of them, sacrificing for them, and from taking the next flight to Eilat.

Okay, so there’s really nothing wrong with doing that. Just make sure someone’s going to watch the kids, okay?

More than just taking care of our kids because that’s what parents are supposed to do, we have a deep hope for a wonderful future for them. We invest in their tomorrow with our efforts today. We hope that our kids will eventually make lots of money so they can buy their mother a nice big house with a huge, fancy kitchen and massive walk-in closet right next door to them.

Oops! What I meant to say was that we hope our efforts will help them turn into kind, wise, considerate, balanced adults that will bring good and blessings to their families and the world.

So I had this amazingly profound thought the other morning as I was trying not to fall face-first into a cream cheese sandwich.

Hashem is the same way with us. Even though He knows that we’re going to make mistakes, mess up, get upset, deny His loving kindness, and even deny His existence, He still continues to provide us with everything we need, every single day.

Even when we complain that He didn’t put enough money in our bank accounts, or the apartment is too small, and why do we have to suffer with health problems, and on and on, He still makes sure to lovingly make us those sandwiches that we say are gross, although we probably didn’t even open them. And He doesn’t even roll His eyes at us.

Talk about patience! Where can I get me some of that??

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Feel free to send Racheli your questions, particularly in the areas of marriage, dating, child-rearing and women’s role; write her at racheli@breslev.co.il