Two completely unrelated but fascinating articles

Both great and worth reading.  "To Parents of Small Children: Let Me Be the One Who Says It Out Loud" by Steve Wiens and "The Importance of Reading Torah During Your College Years" by Deb and Jerry Plovsky.

I'm including the text of both below for posterity.


"To Parents of Small Children" by Steve Weins

I am in a season of my life right now where I feel bone-tired almost all of the time. Ragged, how-am-I-going-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-day, eyes burning exhausted.

I have three boys ages 5 and under. I'm not complaining about that. Well, maybe I am a little bit. But I know that there are people who would give anything for a house full of laughter and chaos. I was that person for years and years; the pain of infertility is stabbing and throbbing and constant. I remember allowing hope to rise and then seeing it crash all around me, month after month, for seven years. I am working on another post about infertility that will come at a later date.

But right now, in my actual life, I have three boys ages 5 and under. There are many moments where they are utterly delightful, like last week, when Isaac told my sister-in-law that, "My daddy has hair all over." Or when Elijah put a green washcloth over his chin and cheeks, and proudly declared, "Daddy! I have a beard just like you!" Or when Ben sneaks downstairs in the morning before the other boys do, smiles at me, and says, "Daddy and Ben time."

But there are also many moments when I have no idea how I'm going to make it until their bedtime. The constant demands, the needs and the fighting are fingernails across the chalkboard every single day.

One of my children is for sure going to be the next Steve Jobs. I now have immense empathy for his parents. He has a precise vision of what he wants -- exactly that way and no other way. Sometimes, it's the way his plate needs to be centered exactly to his chair, or how his socks go on, or exactly how the picture of the pink dolphin needs to look -- with brave eyes, not sad eyes, daddy! He is a laser beam, and he is not satisfied until it's exactly right.

I have to confess that sometimes, the sound of his screaming drives me to hide in the pantry. And I will neither confirm nor deny that while in there, I compulsively eat chips and/or dark chocolate.

There are people who say this to me:

"You should enjoy every moment now! They grow up so fast!"

I usually smile and give some sort of guffaw, but inside, I secretly want to hold the people that make these kind of statements under water. Just for a minute or so. Just until they panic a little.

If you have friends with small children -- especially if your children are now teenagers or if they're grown -- please vow to me right now that you will never say this to them. Not because it's not true, but because it really, really doesn't help.

We know it's true that they grow up too fast. But feeling like I have to enjoy every moment doesn't feel like a gift, it feels like one more thing that is impossible to do, and right now, that list is way too long. Not every moment is enjoyable as a parent; it wasn't for you, and it isn't for me. You just have obviously forgotten. I can forgive you for that. But if you tell me to enjoy every moment one more time, I will need to break up with you.

If you are a parent of small children, you know that there are moments of spectacular delight, and you can't believe you get to be around these little people. But let me be the one who says the following things out loud:

You are not a terrible parent if you can't figure out a way for your children to eat as healthy as your friend's children do. She's obviously using a bizarre and probably illegal form of hypnotism.

You are not a terrible parent if you yell at your kids sometimes. You have little dictators living in your house. If someone else talked to you like that, they'd be put in prison.

You are not a terrible parent if you can't figure out how to calmly give them appropriate consequences in real time for every single act of terrorism that they so creatively devise.

You are not a terrible parent if you'd rather be at work.

You are not a terrible parent if you just can't wait for them to go to bed.

You are not a terrible parent if the sound of their voices sometimes makes you want to drink and never stop.

You're not a terrible parent.

You're an actual parent with limits. You cannot do it all. We all need to admit that one of the casualties specific to our information saturated culture is that we have sky-scraper standards for parenting, where we feel like we're failing horribly if we feed our children chicken nuggets and we let them watch TV in the morning.

One of the reasons we are so exhausted is that we are oversaturated with information about the kind of parents we should be.

So, maybe it's time to stop reading the blogs that tell you how to raise the next president who knows how to read when she's 3 and who cooks, not only eats, her vegetables. Maybe it's time to embrace being the kind of parent who says sorry when you yell. Who models what it's like to take time for yourself. Who asks God to help you to be a better version of the person that you actually are, not for more strength to be an ideal parent.

So, the next time you see your friends with small children with that foggy and desperate look in their eyes, order them a pizza and send it to their house that night. Volunteer to take their kids for a few hours so they can be alone in their own house and have sex when they're not so tired, for heaven's sake. Put your hand on their shoulder, look them in the eyes, and tell them that they're doing a good job. Just don't freak out if they start weeping uncontrollably. Most of the time, we feel like we're botching the whole deal and our kids will turn into horrible criminals who hate us and will never want to be around us when they're older.

You're bone-tired. I'm not sure when it's going to get better. Today might be a good day or it might be the day that you lost it in a way that surprised even yourself.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You're not alone.

And now for a 180 in topic and writing style....

"The Importance of Reading Torah in Your College Years" by Deb and Jerry Plovsky

We encouraged our daughter, Sydney Plovsky, who is a sophomore at Elon University, to read Torah during the High Holidays at her school; growing up, she had been a frequent Torah reader at Temple Emanuel in Greensboro, N.C. Sydney’s response was that she would only agree to chant Torah were she to receive a suitable essay from us, her parents, explaining why this was important. The following is the response we sent her – and by the way, it worked!

Dear Sydney,

It has been decades since I have been asked to write a persuasive essay, and I’ve certainly forgotten proper format, so I am asking that you give me creative license in the writing of this paper. I was amused by your challenge to place in writing why it is important to me for you to offer to read Torah at Elon University over the High Holidays. As it turns out, it was equally important to both your father and me, as he had significant input into our joint reasoning.

We took your request seriously and embarked on some local research. Our friends found your request intriguing, as well, and they provided great assistance in the writing of this document.

We always like to interject a little humor when we can, so Dad and I decided to write our reasons in the “Top 10” David Letterman style. Your ordering may differ slightly from ours but here goes:

The Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Offer to Read Torah during High Holidays at Elon:

1. Reading Torah will keep your Hebrew skills current so you can easily converse on future trips to Israel.
2. Reading Torah is a great way to speak to your ancestors, especially because cell phone reception is not good where they are.
3. Reading Torah is a great way to honor Elon’s commitment to active Jewish engagement. Just a few short years ago there were no students reading Torah.
4. Reading Torah will help reduce the electric bill at Temple Emanuel because your parents will be beaming.
5. Reading Torah is the safest way to get chai.
6. You never know what really hot Jewish guy will be in the congregation watching.
7. Chanting Torah sets an example that it is a special honor and way cool.
8. Reading Torah confirms all those years at Jewish day school paid off.
9. God needs to hear from you now and then.
10. As a community of Jews, reading Torah is one of the most vital threads in the tapestry of your heritage. Simply stated, it’s “what we do.”

We hope you found some humor in the aforementioned reasons. But on a more serious note, our entire family witnessed the atrocities of the Holocaust while attending the March of the Living. As I marched through the death camps, I recall trying to visualize the faces behind the mountain of suitcases and reading glasses. I was horrified by the lost hopes, dreams, and potential contributions of Jews as I witnessed the mound of human ash at Majdanek.

Historically, whenever attempts were made toward ethnic genocide or religious oppression, one of the first things an oppressor did was to take away the Bible of a religious community. More than once in our collective history, our synagogues, our Torahs, and its teachings have been destroyed. I cannot underestimate the comfort and peace of mind it brings to adults and elders in a congregation, and, I believe, all of those who perished in the Holocaust, to know that our young adults will carry on the teachings of the Torah to generations thereafter. Chanting Torah exemplifies your personal commitment to our future.

All our love,
Mom and Dad