Serenity

Last winter, my lovely chevruta L.L. and I sat in my living room, studying a parenting book together. Afterwards, she headed out into the wet day, wearing her baby in an Ergo carrier. I own a rain cover for the Ergo, so I suggested she borrow it. She was hesitant; perhaps I would need it again soon?

"So bless me that I will have a baby by the next rainy season," I said.

It seemed very remote to me, even funny. My baby B.A. was two and a half, too heavy to ride on my back. I wanted another child, but I'd passed through 21 months of disappointment by then. I just knew I wouldn't be wearing a baby again so soon.

For posterity

I didn't leave the house for three days last week. It started raining on Wednesday, and then Shabbat afternoon found me increasingly irritated with my children. I kept stalking away from the Shabbat table, wineglass in hand, to go hide out in my bedroom with the napping baby. And really, my kids weren't doing much except being 5 and 3. Normal kid stuff.

"I need to get out of the house," I told my husband. I strapped T.S. into her carrier and headed out.

I was so done with my kids. I wouldn't even make eye contact with them as I was getting ready to go out. And at the same time, I was aware that I was being sulky and sullen, and that they were watching me.

Oh no, I thought with dawning dread. I am their mother! I am the mother of four people. This petulant grouch is their mother.