This summer we weren't going on vacation. Up north it was
raining katyushas. In fact, the Northern residents had an all-
expense vacation to the south, courtesy of Hizballah. While
they were grateful for accommodations offered, it seems that
those Northern residents would have been happy to stay put in
their own homes.
My sister-in-law was one of those in exile. With parents
living in Netanya, she was fairly lucky in having somewhere
to flee to. But once a week or so, she'd find herself home,
to restock on clothes or to take care of matters there.
Sirens going off every half hour sent her scurrying back as
quickly as possible. We happened to meet up not long after
she was finally able to return home more permanently. On the
spur of the moment, I walked into a gift store and bought her
a pretty mug. I filled it with candies and wrote a note -
"There's nothing like Home Sweet Home."
When I did it, I just thought it was some nice gesture. By
the look of her response, I realized that this was first aid.
She was greatly in need of that loving-care. I was glad that
I had comforted her in some matter but didn't think that much
of it.
Some years we exert ourselves and go all out for the family-
quality-time thing and go off on vacation with all the kids.
Some years, like this one, the plan was to put the kids in
day camps and fill in with small day trips. I try to stagger
boring days with fun activities. Sometimes an activity is no
more than running errands that have to be done regardless.
They're happy just to get out.
Every kid has different needs. When my fourteen-year-old
son's camp got canceled due to raining metal parts, I tried
to make sure that each week of his vacation, he'd have one or
two appropriate activities to refresh him. During the
zman, this kid has a long grueling day. If he's not
going to air out now, then when? Thankfully, his older
brother was self-sufficient enough to make his own plans.
That just left me with all the rest. The boys needed this.
The girls needed that and the little ones needed something
else altogether. Days when bigger kids were in camp, I'd
spend the morning, exploring some new park with my two
youngest. After a satisfying but exhausting morning, we'd
come home. They'd collapse into nap-land and while I would
have loved to join them, lunch had to be made for the older
kids coming home from camp.
When one friend asked me how my summer was going, I said,
"Great, if only I was an elastic band." The housework doesn't
go on vacation; dirty dishes and laundry still stack up even
in summer months. In fact, having everyone underfoot made the
housework take even longer. And of course there were the
never-ending arguments about who did and who did not clean up
what they were supposed to.
I wanted so badly to provide my kids with an enjoyable summer
but doing it all was making me quite miserable. It was like a
pressure cooker that was likely to end in an explosion.
One evening I was coming back from errands with my husband
and a few kids. I had taken care of some back-to-school
shopping. I was hoping to maybe even take care of some odd
jobs specifically for me. I knew it wasn't really feasible
and guess what? It really wasn't.
We were in the car, heading back home. The kids were getting
too rambunctious and I was in an evil mood. At some point, I
felt I couldn't spend another moment in that car. Just as we
were entering our neighborhood, I told my husband to stop the
car, I was getting out. I wanted to walk (about a ten minute
walk) the rest of the way home. I got out of the car. I have
to admit that I even slammed the door and started stomping
home.
After about thirty good hard stomps, I realized there was a
small grocery store up ahead. A grocery store means
chocolate. I was going to indulge myself in a chocolate bar.
I remember thinking, "Well, if no one is going to pamper me,
then I'll just have to do it myself." I bought two small
chocolate bars and slowly walked home.
Gone was the stomping; replaced by a relaxed, even-paced
gait. By the time I had taken my first bite into the second
chocolate bar, I didn't even feel like I needed it so much. I
let myself enjoy it anyway. If not now, when? I took the last
bite two buildings before my own. Everything changed. The
smile returned to my face. My husband and kids opened the
door to a relaxed wife and mother.
I called a friend in a similar situation and told her what
happened. We both had a good laugh. The amazing part of this
story is that the effect lasted far beyond my imagination. By
the end of the week, I was still feeling rejuvenated by my
two little chocolate bars. Who said I didn't go on vacation
after all?
