Children, I make you a happy mother. “I make you a happy mother!” Jewish parable for all mothers. Parable about mother's love
No wonder poor moms are exhausted at the end of the day! And for some, being in peace and quiet for at least a couple of hours becomes the most long-awaited gift.
How not to go crazy and not get depressed when the house is upside down? Read this wise Jewish parable:
Once upon a time there lived a poor Jewish family. There were many children, but little money. The poor mother worked her butt off - she cooked, washed, and screamed, handed out slaps and loudly complained about life.
Finally, exhausted, she went to the rabbi for advice: how to become a good mother?
She left him looking thoughtful. Since then it has been replaced. No, the family did not have any more money. And the children did not become more obedient. But now mother did not scold them, and the friendly smile did not leave her face.
Once a week she went to the market, and when she returned, she locked herself in her room for the whole evening.
The children were tormented by curiosity. One day they broke the ban and looked at their mother.
She was sitting at the table and... drinking tea with sweet tzimmes!
“Mom, what are you doing? What about us? - the children shouted indignantly.
“Sha, children! – she answered importantly. - I'm making you happy mom!»
What kind of mother do children need? Kind, understanding, “good enough,” balanced, purposeful? Each of us has our own idea of what qualities a modern mother should have. In general, they will be similar, but there is one important ingredient on which not only the mother, but the whole family rests - happiness. And not all family members (although this is important), not as an abstract concept, but how satisfied and joyful the mother herself feels.
With all their worries, mothers often give up on themselves: I have no time, school, clubs, work, home, bills... We need to have time to make everyone around us happy, help everyone, educate, put on shoes, dress, feed, feel sorry for and put to bed. In ordinary everyday activities it is easy to drown and lose yourself.
We perceive our personal happiness as a secondary whim, a trifle that we can think about tomorrow. But this is a strategic mistake, because an unhappy mother, no matter how diligently she does her job, cannot make her children happy. She becomes more and more nervous, in a hurry, angry and grumbling.
Anna Ershova shared her experience on how a mother can become a little happier and make life easier for herself and her family.
Make your children a happy mother
My friend has disappeared somewhere, mother of many children, - doesn’t call, doesn’t write. I remember when and what was the last time we talked? Oh, that’s right: she wrote fragmentary messages on WhatsApp that she had no time, that she was tired of everything, that she was tired, that she was spending all her time on transporting the children, that she had an incomprehensible fever for a week, that she couldn’t bring herself to do it... Then I got tired, and now I discovered that we had no contact with her for a whole month.
No, this column is not about a sudden illness, not about depression, or about some global family troubles. This is a column about mom's lot.
One of my friend’s children studies at an English gymnasium, the other at a lyceum with a mathematical bias. They are very different, and there was no way to send them to the same school. Third child - in Waldorf kindergarten, the fourth is in the garden with a swimming pool. The first and second should also be taken to the pool, it is good for health. The second one also plays chess 4 times a week, in the lyceum they are not strong enough, but he shows promise. Both younger ones speak English in the evenings: preparing for school, where there are no languages now. The first one is still involved in music: her hearing is good. The second goes to ceramics, he really likes it, it’s impossible to deprive him of it. The third and fourth - to the children's church choir: it’s good at least the rehearsals are only on Friday evenings. And on Sunday, of course.
Everything is logical, everything is thought out, nothing can be taken away or added. Only…
“I’ve had a low-grade fever for a week, I don’t understand what it is...” - “Did you go to the doctor?” - “When am I, are you kidding me?”
“I don’t talk to my husband, we had a fight.” - "And what happened?" - “He doesn’t care about anything at all. I ask you to take time off from work: Leshka has a competition, and I can’t take him” - “So what?” - “I didn’t ask for time off! He said, well, then, let him not participate in competitions.”
“Tanya started a scandal today.” - “What does he want?” - “On the contrary, he doesn’t want to. In solfeggio. And in general she has become so nervous, she beats Masha constantly.” - “So maybe, well, solfeggio? She takes private lessons, solfeggio is not necessary.” - “What, come on! The teacher said that it was necessary...
I understand my friend perfectly - I lived like this myself for some time. I pick up the youngest, take her to the dance studio, run home, meet the middle one, feed her lunch, send her to music, rush after the youngest, arrive, feed both of them an afternoon snack, take the youngest to paper practice, to middle school, so that she can do her homework quickly, because we will come and I need to go to the pool... Plus I work: in fits and starts in the morning; in the car while waiting from the pool; in the evening, when everyone had gone to bed... And I only have two children “in orbit”, the older ones are already big and independent. What about four minor children? What if mom didn’t feel well? What if one of the children gets sick and cannot be left alone at home yet?
Yes, we had a delivery nanny; Yes, my husband and I agreed that one evening on weekdays he takes/picks up someone somewhere and then it’s Saturday; Yes, sometimes my grandmother helped. But still it was a constant whirlwind, constant irritation and outbursts of anger over trifles, constant “Hurry up, we’re late! What are you digging for?!”, constant complaints to the whole world that no one is helping, constant fragmentation of consciousness and the feeling that you are not resting. And you don’t get any rest from the word “at all.”
At some point, I made an incredible effort on myself, and we left several circles. We left each of us with only one main studio, abandoned paper and vocals. We refused additional English. They didn’t buy a subscription to the pool for the next six months... By the way, the middle one suddenly decided to play basketball on her own - she found it nearby and started going there by tram herself.
And in the evenings now I go to the club. I'm not kidding. I signed up for the vocal studio where one of my daughters went: there was a group for adults. I signed up simply out of despair - because I could no longer be either at home (I work from home) or in child care institutions. Because at the end of the day I often found myself in my morning clothes: pajamas with pants pulled on top and a sweatshirt. Because when the whole family got together in the evening, I wanted to go into the back room, lock myself and sit there silently on the phone. Well, and because I really love to sing!
For six months, like a zombie, I came to this vocal and simply “automatically” completed all the tasks, wrapped in thoughts in my daily experiences, going over in my head what else needs to be done today and what not to forget tomorrow, distracted by my colleagues who “woke up” in the evening and answering their calls and letters. But even so, I received great pleasure and relief! “Mi-me-ma-mo-we,” I cried and felt how with the sound all the tension, all the problems, all the dissatisfaction with life gradually flew away. “Hold the diaphragm! Let's sing to the head, right here, to the frontal part! Finding resonance! So, have you prepared a solo number? Yes, now I’m already preparing my solo number. And I lock myself in the room with my phone in the evenings, not to “put my head down,” but to turn it to “minus” and rehearse in front of the mirror.
Also, I practice vocals with an intermediate level myself, because I’ve gotten a little “understood” on how to breathe and produce sound correctly. The youngest also makes paper crafts herself, with a little help from me, using the 1st grade technology textbook. And into English in next year I plan to record... myself and my husband.
Do you know that old Jewish joke about “sha, children, I make you a happy mother”? Well, that’s how we save ourselves.
Based on materials from: www.matrony.ru
“I have some kind of him energetic vampire. Lord, when will he grow up?” It is clear that she is shaking. Usually caring (yesterday she cut a whole bowl of fresh fruit for her and other people’s children at the playground), today she is clearly not herself. “The neurologist said so: he is an energy vampire. Until it makes me hysterical, it won’t calm down. Lord, don’t give me more children,” the neighbor’s mom shoots out sentence after sentence. Her son is 1 year and 9 months old. Yes, capricious at times, like most children, but not a vampire. But the neighbor is not a monster: she tries, watches, offers games, cartoons, prepares.
“What did you think? She gave birth, now humble yourself and be patient,” her friend stops her complaints, rocking the restless younger one in her arms and at the same time keeping an eye on the fidgety older one. “You think I don’t want a haircut and a manicure and heels. Sometimes I look at women my age walking past, and I feel such envy. But my mother raised four. “Everything happened, so it’s a sin for me and two to complain.”
“Maybe you need to learn to relax? Take time for yourself,” I timidly suggest to the “vampire” mom.
“Yes, but where can I find this time? My husband is working!” – the neighbor answers defiantly. “Well, he comes home. So leave it with your son, and go to the gym, go to the pool, or just take a walk.” - “No, there is no time. At all. Either cook it or put it away.”
The one with two doesn’t let up: “Yes, why are you complaining. Your husband takes his son to his grandmother for the weekend. You’re sitting alone.” “I’m sitting,” the first one humbly agrees. “I take either Persen or some other sedatives, but it doesn’t help.”
Another mother joins the conversation: “You just have to endure it. This is the age. True, then, they say, at three years old it won’t be easy either. And then at seven. Well, the teenage period..."
"Maksim! Well, where are you going again? – the mother of the “vampire” takes off. The kid, of course, does not answer the question, rushing away across the entire yard.
She seems to have the usual mom depression, I think, shaking off own child from sand mixed with cookie crumbs. It’s strange, it seems that such things are now being said on every corner, in any glossy magazine there is advice on how to recognize and take action in time, but society (and what about society - young mothers themselves) is very dismissive, if not condemning, of this condition of a woman. They repeat with one voice: “Everyone has endured - and you must endure.” At best, they nod their heads sympathetically: “Well, yes, not everyone is born a mother.”
So in our sandbox, after the mother and the “vampire baby” left, they started talking about the fact that there are those who are two or three years old - for happiness. Always calm, balanced, friendly. Never losing their temper.
And I listened - and wanted to see them in person. I have no doubt that there are those among us who have dreamed of children since childhood, imagined their life with them down to the smallest detail, and knew how they would react to every prank. And they simply have a fairly stable psyche. No depression can hit someone like that, and if it does, they’ll twist it into a ram’s horn and calmly throw it into a basket with used diapers.
But for the most part, the mother is on maternity leave (show me the person who called it a vacation), no, no, and “get on a horse,” or turn into one giant electric stingray. Just touch it - the discharge will not take long to arrive. It’s good if lightning flies towards the husband (an adult can handle it), but it can also hit a child.
Some specialist would be nearby, pat me on the shoulder, and say that such outbursts are not the norm, of course, but are quite controllable. That a child of 1 year and 9 months does nothing out of malice or on purpose. He tries the boundaries of what is acceptable - yes, but he specifically drinks your energy (I wish I could meet that neurologist) - this is too much. I would teach you how to cope with anger, I would explain that any person should have personal space and time for themselves, even if you are a mother on maternity leave three times. That a manicure, heels and a new dress are not selfishness. That you shouldn’t “endure and resign yourself” because it ruins everything, including your relationship with your baby.
But there are no specialists, and the mothers in the sandbox are convinced that each of them has no time to nurse (at least in public). And if someone gives way, the main thing is to stop it in time (“what did you expect when you gave birth?”)
For what? And I’ll tell you: at the rosy-cheeked, joyful baby smiling with his charming smile from the poster in the maternity hospital. For happy shots in family album on a summer lawn flooded with sun. On the same wonderful chubby little man, with his arms and legs spread out in a funny way in the crib. In the picture, the standard that is drawn to us from the first days of pregnancy.
And when in 1 year and 9 months you don’t remember a single Good night, when your child swings a shovel at you, likes to throw toys and break glass in the house, this does not fit into a happy picture. Add to this the fluctuations in hormones, the eternal busyness of dad, the complete restructuring of life for a child who has barely learned to walk and is already dictating the terms, and she screams in her hearts: “I guess I’m just not born to be a mother”...
Calm down baby, you're already a mom. Not ideal, there are no such things, but not the worst either. A little more endurance, a little lower bar for yourself and your child, a little more healthy selfishness - and life will certainly improve.
There is an old Jewish parable. Once upon a time there lived a poor Jewish family. There were many children, but little money. The poor mother worked her butt off - she cooked, washed, and screamed, handed out slaps and loudly complained about life.
Finally, exhausted, she went to the rabbi for advice: how to become a good mother? She left him looking thoughtful. Since then it has been replaced. No, the family did not have any more money. And the children did not become more obedient. But now mother did not scold them, and the friendly smile did not leave her face.
Once a week she went to the market, and when she returned, she locked herself in her room for the whole evening. The children were tormented by curiosity. One day they broke the ban and looked at their mother.
She was sitting at the table and... drinking tea with sweet tsimmes!
“Mom, what are you doing? What about us? – the children shouted indignantly.
“Sha, children! – she answered importantly. “I make you a happy mother!”
For “making me happy” I have a whole “just in case” list.
Well, don’t understand why, but some kind of melancholy has set in, or even “understand why” and you want to whine so that you can take your hands/put your hands away, you bastard!
For these moments, I, as “Mr. Fix”, always have a plan! It could be:
If it’s closer to the evening: change the bed, even if it’s not necessary, make a fresh, crisp bed, preferably smelling of freshness and wind; lie down in bed, close the door and take a book by your side (the phone is turned off and no, no breaking in the door," I'm not at home" 
Manicure/pedicure, choose some completely unexpected color, even if I erase it in a day and do everything more discreetly 
-go to some interesting cafe and drink coffee. I only drink it a few times a year. Coffee, preferably like our “Asian”: condensed milk, Orange peel, coffee, liqueur "43", cinnamon... Mmm
Go to the beach, but not in the season, and when it is deserted and you are snoring and snoring alone, it is possible to lie down on a pile of dry seaweed and close your eyes and listen to the sea...
Take out “half a bag” of your “paint and varnish products”, once again you will be surprised: why do I buy so much if I really use powder, eyebrow eyeliner and mascara; - and, after watching some video on YouTube, “draw a face/face” , laugh, wash away and hide everything back until better times.
By the way, my LIFE HACK: if suddenly, one day in the evening you are so tired / you are too lazy to completely wash off your makeup (it happens, happens to everyone, don’t say that it doesn’t), then do what I do - I take a handful of makeup remover milk and just I smear it all over my face. Hehe, try not to wash it off later!
-If you are a “browless creature” like me (this is neither good nor bad, just a given) - pay attention to this product, I am delighted with it “makes” eyebrows even “in sparse woodland”.
I have the one that is shown on 2m. 
This, of course, is a massage; including a head massage (it’s better if someone does it, but you can do it yourself with the help of some “stuff”
Sign up for an hour of makeup school and let them paint your face, and then you yourself, under the supervision of a makeup artist. Besides, having paid for an hour of swearing with the most luxurious brands, the money does not go to waste - you can use it to buy what you like. Of course, you don’t have to buy it, but then it’s a waste of money.
Another way to make me happy is flowers, almost all fresh flowers, well, except perhaps carnations, calla lilies and scarlet roses. Carnations and calla lilies - because under the USSR, in winter, nothing else could be bought and they were bought for funerals and since then I have not liked them. And scarlet roses - well, there were too many of them at one time, almost all the roses for sale were from red to almost black. And I love, and very much, roses that are white, cream, slightly yellowish or slightly pink.
Alas, my husband doesn’t buy me flowers on his own initiative, but will I really be “sour” with envy when I see the gorgeous bouquets that are given to other women? May this never happen!
And today I “make myself happy” by looking at my beautiful bouquet of 15 roses that I bought for myself, but looking at them, I never cease to thank my husband.
Because it’s Saturday, and he’s plowing the field like a pony, it’s +30 during the day, and he’s working, and will work tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and his next day off will be in September... I miss him so much, although at this time, when he is at home, he is more likely a “piece of furniture”, “a sofa cushion”. And I understand him: I once worked so hard that at home I didn’t even want to open my mouth to say a word... And I sit silently and hold his foot, he watches his football, and I look at the roses and I don’t need 1000 words to understand that “happiness exists”, even if it is not “there”, and even if you buy flowers for yourself, it’s not because you are lonely, but because you know how, or at least you try, be happy...
