Can I, too, be created anew? Perhaps I can tap into the power of the day and become a new creation, sans impatience
I’m smothered by my children. No, not physically (although that too, at times), but emotionally. I’m so totally and completely wrung out that I wonder where the Me is. I feel like an octopus, pulled in a million different directions, and I wonder when self-care became redefined as taking care of my basic physical needs.
I can’t seem to control my snappiness, my frustration at this endless, nerve-racking day. With Rosh Hashanah falling on the heels of Shabbos, it’s been five days of off-scheduled craziness, of sugar highs, of Ima completely and totally losing it.
Stop, just stop, I want to shout when they’re so entangled in a fight that I physically cannot tear them apart. They’ve been awake since 5:30 am, and it’s barely ten. Four hours down, more than four hours to go.
Even with all this adrenaline rushing through my veins, their strength outpowers my own. But I can’t scream at them, not today, so instead, I take a deep breath, and look up at the wall that we decorated on Erev Chag, amidst screams and tears and too many declarations of don’t put glitter in your hair!
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