A true story, to the best of my knowledge
You remember that old story?
A guy went to talk to his rabbi
He was going meshuggeh
because he had plenty of family
but not enough house
So the rabbi said, "Bring all your animals into your house."
"What?!"
"Trust me.
"Bring all your animals into your house,
then come back to see me in two days."
So the man brought his goat inside
and he brought his chickens inside
And . . .
Well, you can imagine the chaos!
Two days later, he went back to see his rabbi.
"You can let the animals out now."
All of a sudden, the house looked big.
Same here.
What a juggling act, always with all those balls in the air
and both of us employed (thank goodness, given the size of our yeshiva tuition bills)
Luckily, I had some back-up from my resident catcher, What's-His-Name (remember him?)
Good for getting kids to music lessons and the like in what passes for a car
(No wisecracks, please: All of our new-car money is invested in tuition)
while I whipped up dinner
(including mashed potatoes made with real boiled potatoes--
you know, the kind you have to peel)
And good for bathing the baby, whoever that happened to be at the time
while I helped the other kids with their homework.
We couldn't have managed without my mother, either.
Now, our oldest is off at college, trying her wings
Two of the boys are in boarding yeshiva
with one more to go
In a few years, the Bearded One won't have a soul to davven with
(or, at least, not one of our sons)
on his side of the mechitza
Nowadays, it's just him and me and those other three characters,
the ones we're still raising
And all of a sudden, there's room.
A guy went to talk to his rabbi
He was going meshuggeh
because he had plenty of family
but not enough house
So the rabbi said, "Bring all your animals into your house."
"What?!"
"Trust me.
"Bring all your animals into your house,
then come back to see me in two days."
So the man brought his goat inside
and he brought his chickens inside
And . . .
Well, you can imagine the chaos!
Two days later, he went back to see his rabbi.
"You can let the animals out now."
All of a sudden, the house looked big.
Same here.
What a juggling act, always with all those balls in the air
and both of us employed (thank goodness, given the size of our yeshiva tuition bills)
Luckily, I had some back-up from my resident catcher, What's-His-Name (remember him?)
Good for getting kids to music lessons and the like in what passes for a car
(No wisecracks, please: All of our new-car money is invested in tuition)
while I whipped up dinner
(including mashed potatoes made with real boiled potatoes--
you know, the kind you have to peel)
And good for bathing the baby, whoever that happened to be at the time
while I helped the other kids with their homework.
We couldn't have managed without my mother, either.
Now, our oldest is off at college, trying her wings
Two of the boys are in boarding yeshiva
with one more to go
In a few years, the Bearded One won't have a soul to davven with
(or, at least, not one of our sons)
on his side of the mechitza
Nowadays, it's just him and me and those other three characters,
the ones we're still raising
And all of a sudden, there's room.
Labels: My poems
posted by Shira Salamone at 1:37 AM
2 Comments:
Ah, but nature abhors a vacuum, so the rest fill up the remaining space.
And then the big ones come back for the holidays.
"Nature abhors a vaccumm." Tell me about it. :) You would think that, now that my husband can use our son's bedroom as his office from September through May, with only a few weeks break for college vacations, the livingroom would be a bit less cluttered with his business papers. Famous last words. Now, every time our son comes home, the livingroom gets even *more* cluttered, because the Punster has to move his stuff out of our son's bedroom.
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