I hurt my neck. The muscle was so stiff that it hurt to turn
my head. But I didn't utter one complaint as I got the six
little ones onto their respective school buses. Once home, I
stretched my neck to the far right and grimaced. I had so
much to do! Would I be able to get it all done today?
Right then, my fourteen-year-old walked into the house and
sat down on the couch with his feet up on a chair. Two more
days until yeshiva would begin.
"Ima," he said, as I started sweeping the floor. "I want to
buy a remote control airplane. It's only 400 shekels!"
My neck muscles seemed even tighter all of a sudden!
"Well, go ahead and buy it, sweetheart," I said, walking into
the kitchen to make lunch.
He was behind me instantly. "But I don't have the money, Ima.
You buy it for me, okay?"
I concentrated very hard on the carrot I was peeling,
counting to ten slowly and letting my breath out even more
slowly.
"Meir, you know that money is very tight right now and we
just can't buy anything extra at all."
Meir brought two chairs into the kitchen, sat down on one and
put his feet up on the second one.
"You know, Ima, I've been thinking about it. We don't have
much money and you waste your time so you should get a
job."
I was beginning to understand where the pain in my neck was
coming from.
I bit my lip and kept on peeling, a lump forming in my
throat. How does a mother of a large family explain to her
teenager what she "does" all day?
Meir pulled out a notepad and pen. "Really, Ima, how
long does it take to hang up the laundry? Five
minutes?"
The lump in my throat wouldn't let me answer. I nodded and
turned my face as a lone tear plopped down onto the freshly
peeled carrot. I reached for the aspirin. "I can't deal with
the pain in my neck," I thought to myself, "as well as the
pain of being unappreciated."
"And you spend about two hours a week washing the floor,
right, Ima?" He was jotting that down as well in his
notepad.
I nodded and croaked out, "And about an hour picking up to
get ready to wash the floor."
"Alright," he said, putting his feet on the floor and
concentrating on his list.
"How about shopping? How long does that take?"
"About an hour and a half, including walking to the store and
back. Of course, if there's a line it can take longer." I
thought to myself, "Maybe if I eat breakfast, I'll have more
strength to deal with this kid and maybe the lump in my
throat will get dislodged and go down with the food!"
I took some cereal and milk with a bowl and spoon to the
living room table. Meir was right on my heels.
"Funny," I thought to myself. "Meir never has the `strength'
to help but he has so much strength to do an inquisition!"
As I ate, he questioned me about every aspect of my day:
How long does it take to get the kids off in the morning? One
hour.
To daven and say Tehillim? Half an hour.
To mend? One hour a week.
To cook? Two to three hours a day.
Dishes? One hour a day.
Laundry, ironing, making the beds . . .
"Meir," I interrupted him, "a lot of things don't take a
lot of time but each thing does take time, not
to mention the energy. If you'd help more, I'd be able to do
more as well as have more energy for other things."
"No, Ima," he shook his head vigorously. "I'm telling you,
you can get a job."
Back to his list: Bathing the kids, combing out the girls'
hair, helping with the homework, Shabbos preparations,
doctors, PTA meetings, banking, writing to both set of
grandparents . . .
I finished eating and began to concentrate on his "list" as
well. If he wanted to know how hard I work, then I would
certainly oblige in informing him. "Don't forget to write
down the two hours I had to wait at the dentist with Eli and
the one and a half hours that it took to get Benny his new
glasses or when I had to spend six hours at the hospital
waiting to get the x-ray results for Surale. Baruch Hashem
she didn't have a broken arm in the end, but the wait used up
my whole morning."
Finally the drill was over.
I went to the kitchen, rinsed my bowl and spoon, and went
back to peeling vegetables.
Meir was doing quite a bit of calculating. I looked at this
5'10" blonde with the mere glistening of a mustache and I
thought to myself, "I could mention the hours of
giving him my undivided attention whenever he comes home from
yeshiva, but, on the other hand, I don't want to dissuade him
from talking and sharing with me." Without a word, I put a
bag of potatoes on the counter.
"Look, Ima. You have an extra five hours a week. You can get
a job for those five hours."
An extra five hours?
"Meir, a job means that I have to be there. What if one of
the children gets sick? I don't want to go to work unless I
can be consistent and reliable."
There was a knock at the door. I dried my hands and answered
it.
"Mazel tov!" my friend Danya exclaimed. "Batya gave birth to
a girl very early this morning."
"Mazel tov! What can I do to help?"
"Maybe you could take care of her other kids this
afternoon?"
"Sure thing! And tell Simcha that they can stay for dinner as
well."
"That's great. He'll pick them up after maariv. He'll
surely appreciate that."
We chatted for a few minutes and as I closed the door, I
chuckled to myself, "So much for an extra five hours
this week."
As I walked into the kitchen, Meir looked at me with his big
blue eyes as he gnawed at the eraser of his pencil. I smiled
at him and continued peeling the potatoes.
"Ima?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Would you like me to wash the floor?"
P.S. Halfway through washing the floor, he had to sit down to
rest. He's never brought up the subject again about me
getting a job. Or of him getting a remote control
airplane!
