A new baby is a bundle of joy and work. Chaya was a bit
overwhelmed when Baby Rivky came along but was trying to take
things in stride. It took all of three weeks of three
nocturnal feedings per night for Chaya to realize that for
the time being, life would not be the same. Things that had
been taken for granted up till now would have to be re-
revaluated. Maintaining a clean home, clean laundry, and
cooked meals would not be on the same standard that the
family had been used to. It took just one more week for Chaya
to be convinced that things would henceforth be without any
standard at all. Having four little ones to care for was very
different than having just three.
*
Glancing at the clock in the children's room, Chaya knew she
must race against time. The baby was going to wake up any
minute. As a matter of fact, there were little kvetchy noises
emanating from the crib already. She quickly picked up the
dirty laundry, scooped up an empty baby bottle and a forlorn
pacifier on her way to the hamper. With one foot, she kicked
a slipper under the bed, then with the other, she shlepped
the throw rug to the center of the room. As she passed the
window, she made a mental note that `someone' had better
clean the little finger prints and smudges. About to deposit
her harvest of dirty clothes into the hamper, she half-
tripped on a doll. Loud wailing noises made her sort the
clothes in record time, dump some detergent into the washing
machine, choose the proper cycle and close the lid with a
thud.
Sprinting to the baby, Chaya gently picked up her precious
bundle of love. "Nothing like a newborn to make you grateful.
And tired," Chaya added with an afterthought.
Deftly filling the baby tub with the right temperature water,
while simultaneously preparing all the layers of fresh
clothing, Chaya felt she was about to lose her peace. The
unhappy whimpering of the baby did nothing to help her relax.
After a quick bath and an olive oil massage, the baby was
demanding her meal without further delay. As Chaya fed her,
her mind whirred with all kinds of things she still had to
accomplish within the next hour, and up to the late evening.
It was Thursday and there was so much still to do before
Shabbos.
Taking a quick survey from her enforced relaxed position on
the couch, Chaya noticed a sock sticking out from under the
easy chair. Crayons were neatly lined up against the wall,
Lego pieces happily strewn about in a large radius of one
corner and peeking out from under the table were some
scissors and a multi-colored mountain of cut paper.
Hisssssss! A loud menacing hiss came from the pressure
cooker. It was quite impractical to stop the feed so
abruptly, but fear of an explosion made Chaya do just that,
and turn off the flame. While she was in the kitchen, she put
some beans in a bowl to soak. Carefully balancing the baby on
her shoulder -- she might as well get a premature
greps out of her, Chaya deftly peeled the ten potatoes
she'd be using in various dishes.
Back to finish the feed. Up again to empty the wet clothes
into the basket and put a new load into the washer. By now,
Rivky had fallen asleep. Breathlessly running about, Chaya
hung the laundry to dry on the inside porch, then put the
white tablecloth onto the dining room table.
"Ding!" the clock announced. One o'clock. The children would
be coming home very soon and lunch was nowhere in sight. She
filled up the electric kettle. Pulling out some ready-to-eat
fish from the freezer, she was now synchronized for a bowl of
instant mashed potatoes. Canned corn would fill the rest of
the lunch plate and be a hit for the children who would
momentarily come trooping in.
Now she'd be busy with all of them until after baths and
bedtime. Whatever was done now, was done. What would be
undone . . . she didn't want to think about. The rest would
have to wait for tomorrow, for by the time everyone was
hugged and tucked into bed, Chaya would be so exhausted she
would hardly have any energy for anything else but a quick
nap before Shimon came home.
Over supper, she tired to describe how hectic her life had
become. She searched her mind for the proper adjectives but
the idea did not seem to come across with mere words.
Luckily, Shimon understood.
"I think we should hire some household help. Maybe a young
girl to play with the kids before bedtime and feed and bathe
them. Then you could get some rest."
"A great idea!" Chaya agreed. There was an energetic gleam in
her eye as she visualized herself in bed with a book or the
phone, while the children were being tended to. Shimon wasn't
finished yet. "Of course, we'll have to cut some things out
of our budget," he added thoughtfully.
"Like what?" she asked apprehensively.
"We could have chicken only once a week, just for Shabbos,"
he suggested meekly. This was not such a practical idea. Two
of their children were allergic to dairy products and they
needed protein from a meat source.
"What else can I suggest?" he thought unhappily. The budget
was running very tight already, with corners already neatly
trimmed.
The next morning, as Chaya started hustling around the house
at express train speed, her mind was working in many
directions. "What can we do? What can we do?"
Wipe the spills. Wash the pot. Clear the counters.
"How can we afford some help? What can we eliminate?"
Another load into the machine. Wah! Wah! It was the baby
again. Friday, and still so many things to do for Shabbos,
before Shabbos, with a sinkful of everyday milchig
dishes glaring at her, Rivky noted with a comprehensive
glance before going to the bedroom. She felt the first pangs
of panic upsetting her previously calm demeanor. The baby's
cries climbed an octave. Chaya would have to mobilize the
children to help. She couldn't possibly manage it all on her
own . . .
Shoshana, all of five and very big, being the oldest, was
initiated into the art of dishwashing. Thrilled at the
prospect of being a real help in the house, of being relied
upon, she expertly filled the sink with lots and lots of
bubbles. She merrily swished the rag here and there in this
novel treat. Three-year-old Yossie was helping as well. In a
burst of new energy, he got sidetracked into building a new
Lego tower in lieu of putting the pieces away.
When Chaya had finished feeding the baby, she suddenly
remembered that Yossi's Shabbos vest was missing a button.
Her thoughts wandered to the cake she would not be baking for
this Shabbos, and she unhappily recalled that she still
hadn't thanked Yehudis for the delicious one she had sent two
weeks ago. And the windows, she saw, had accumulated another
layer of gooey fingerprints . . .
Chaya felt a strong urge to do something drastic, to yell or
cry with all of her remaining strength. Neither of these
options, she realized, would be of any use. Instead of
releasing frustration, she remembered Miriam Adahan's advice,
she had better release some expectations.
Feeling somewhat better, Chaya decided that a sink full of
bubbles and dirty dairy dishes over Shabbos would not be
minimizing her love for the Holy day -- under present
circumstances. Toys weren't muktza and chocolate decor
on opaque windows were not a forecast of cloudy weather or
doomsday. Food was the only major must. Shimon would do a
floor mop-up.
"We are going to focus on experiencing the positive beauty
and calm of this once-a-week mini vacation from our cares,"
she promised herself.
Checking the calendar for candle-lighting time, she was
suddenly struck with a brainstorm. This was an opportunity to
use. Candle-lighting time is a special time for women to
pray. A sudden sense of purpose pervaded her and Chaya found
that instead of dreading zero hour, she was actually looking
forward to it.
*
It came. Tranquility filled the air. Miracle of miracles,
even the baby was quiet as Chaya brought fire to wick. As it
caught the flame, the air was thick with expectancy. Three
graceful hand movements ushered in the Shabbos Queen.
The moment had arrived. Chaya had imagined how to use it to
its fullest. The moment when all problems would be resolved,
disintegrate into the vanished weekday world along with the
smoke of the burnt-out match. She had been so sure she would
know what she was lacking and what she would ask for that she
hadn't even formulated the exact words for her request.
Standing, now, at this climax in time, the words were
struggling forth somewhere between her throat and lips.
Nu? she asked herself. What should she ask for?
Money for household help? To have a stranger feed and put her
children to bed? Or for limitless strength -- and patience --
to be able to do everything herself? Groping for the
right answer, Chaya knew that the magic of the tenuous moment
would be lost the second it was broken, perhaps by a child
pulling at her skirt for her attention.
Quick, now! What shall it be? Money or stamina? Maybe
both? Like a fish with its mouth open but silent, no
sound issued forth.
The dreaded but anticipated tug at her dress jerked her out
of the dilemma. Not wanting this golden opportunity to vanish
into the continuum of time, she quickly gasped,
"HASHEM! Help us in any way You see fit!"
