What about my needs?????

**If this is your first visit to the Pimp My Wig blogsite, please read "Nice to Meet You" in the archives first . . . or not**

Well, Bli Ayin Hara, Baruch HaShem and all that jazz my fourth child, my first with my second husband, joined the world on the blessed day of Shavuot! She came in at a respectable 7 lbs 13 oz and 19" long with a moderate amount of dark hair, eye color yet to be determined. The siblings, all seven of them (don't forget my husband has four from his first marriage), are amazed and excited. I, for one, am simply thrilled at being able maneuver my body again without all the aches, pains and creaks of the extra belly weight. (Oh, who am I kidding--my tush took a hit also and I'm hoping it "downsizes" as quickly as my uterus.)

I suppose it would make sense if I took this time to write about the birth and the miracle of life and what it means to have a newborn, because really the entire process is so totally unbelievable, but I'm going to save it for another day. After only days post-partum I'm still processing, still in awe, and am a bit exhausted. But watching my beautiful daughter as she makes her way through her first days in this world of Malchut (the physical world) makes me reflect upon something that influences and drives us all . . .

A very dear friend of mine (in fact the same friend that gave me the name Tatiana) cracks me up every time he calls and I don't answer. Either I get a voice message or a text message that screams, "WHAT ABOUT MY NEEDS?????" clearly implying that I'm being callous and insensitive by not being available to meet his need to speak with me in that exact moment. Of course he is joking, but really . . . is he?

During the days leading up to my daughter's birth (I should mention here that I was in early labor for 4 solid days) the personal "needs-o-meter" of the various players in our family rose slightly each day. My oldest had his meltdowns about not enough "Wii time", my middle one had his meltdowns about not enough "privacy" in the house, my five year old had her meltdowns about not enough "(fill in the blank--it changed by the minute)", my husband had his moments about not enough time for me to help him with some work stuff, you get the idea . . . the needs-factor, more specifically the needs-from-me-factor, was very high. I did my best to meet those needs each day knowing that the impending birth was causing a bit of anxiety for everyone, even if the words weren't there to articulate it. Much to my surprise, it wasn't until after the birth that I found myself asking . . .

"WHAT ABOUT MY NEEDS?????"

You see, my daughter was born on the holiday of Shavuot which was immediately followed by Shabbat this year--this means that on that Friday and Saturday there was no driving, no phone, just time. My husband and I left for the hospital at 2 AM on Friday morning leaving my three kids and my step-son with my husband's parents. My kids and I had only met my mother-in-law a few days earlier--she had not visited from Israel in over two years and was staying in our home for her two-week visit (I should mention I never let anyone stay in my small home for more than a night or two so this was quite the concession on my part, especially before giving birth). My father-in-law had also been in our home to visit for the holiday so he happened to be around.

When the time came, my in-laws thankfully handled things like champs. However while I was in the hospital my husband ended up walking back and forth between home and the hospital (a 30 minute walk one-way) at least six times in order to keep things from completely imploding at home. My in-laws and the kids did come to visit on Shabbat afternoon for a bit which was nice. Regardless, the circumstances of so many kids coupled with the limitations of the holiday and Shabbat left me alone in the hospital for the majority of the time I was there after the birth wondering, "What about my needs?"

Yes, I know, bring out the violins and start weeping . . .

No, but seriously, I managed given that it was my fourth baby, but I realized in those quiet moments in the hospital that my needs , even in this rather vulnerable and raw time of childbirth, were not the priority. My husband, G-d bless him, did the best he could to balance it all and for this I am truly thankful. And, given that I am of the opinion that all is divinely orchestrated, I clearly needed that imposed time alone in the hospital with the baby. But it did not make it any easier and I did miss my husband as I could not even use the phone to call family and share the news.

And then, of course, came the added blow of becoming niddah--the state of a Jewish woman after childbirth or during her period when she and her husband cannot touch. I'll be perfectly honest: my first husband and I did not follow this practice and so it's a whole new thing for me and, wow, was I not prepared for what it means to not even be able to hug your husband after bringing a new life into the world together. I can tell you that the combination of a house guest, dealing with being niddah and a few other factors (hormones not the least of it) have really taken me for a ride. One would think this was my first kid, not my fourth!!

None-the-less, I'm taking it in stride, seeing that not only is the baby a huge blessing, bli ayin hara, but that even these challenges I am facing can only make me stronger; hopefully bringing me closer not only to those I love but even to those whom I have not fully let into my heart yet . . .

And, most important, maybe these challenges will even help me to better identify and understand my true needs so that I can grow to be a lighter version of myself--one where my own level of happiness and satisfaction in life becomes contagious and inspiring. Who knows, maybe you'll even start to consider your own needs as a result . . .

In the meantime, I'm taking it day-by-day, one nursing session at a time, and doing my best not to stress about my perceived personal needs, the fulfillment of which on some level continues to elude me. Instead I look around me and focus on this little bundle of blessing and the larger versions ages 5-12 that now enjoy the early days of summer vacation. I try not to think too much about how much I miss my husband . . .

And, in the bigger picture, contemplate the eternal question that weighs on most orthodox women's minds at one point or another after the birth of a child . . . the big "B.C." (we really need to have that talk about birth control! )

Until next time . . . may all your needs be fulfilled easily and with pleasure.
xo,
T

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The "Suffering Tzadika"

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I struggle. It's true. The "religious" life does not come easy to me and I find that I have this love/hate relationship with it and with my choices within it. The mindset that I have is not of a typical orthodox woman--for example, many women cover their hair for a variety of reasons: because that's what they've seen their mom do their whole lives; because of reasons related to tzniut (for my non-Jewish friends following this that refers to general rules of modesty followed by most orthodox women) where the hair is considered sexy and this "sexiness" should only be kept for their husband; because of what it says in halacha (Jewish "law"); many women cover their head for no apparent reason at all--they just do it so that they meet the neighborhood dress code. Each to her own. I, on the other hand, cover my hair for one reason and one reason only: because the Zohar (the main book of Kabbalah) describes in detail the immense power of a woman's hair and how that impacts the family system. For me, even though I truly can't stand covering my hair, I do it because I see wisdom in a metaphysical system. I know . . . it's not typical.

So, you see, I end up with a challenge: I look like an orthodox Jewish woman, but the truth is I don't think like a typical orthodox Jewish woman. Or, at least so I thought . . . until I looked around at the faces of the women sitting next to me on Shabbat in orthodox shuls. Maybe we have more in common than anyone wishes to admit or discuss . . . hmmmmmm.

Since I got married I noticed how the joy I gleamed from Shabbat and other holidays has faded somewhat and this has surprised me. After all, shouldn't I be feeling more strongly connected? Shouldn't I feel a greater sense of belonging now that my soul is woven with my soul mate's? Why then do I often feel cheated? Like I'm missing out on something on Shabbat as my husband is enveloped in Torah study and I'm waiting around to have a conversation with him? My husband, G-d bless him, literally gets "high" from Shabbat. I hear him talking to his dad on the phone after Shabbat about how beautiful it was and the Torah discussions and the prayers and yadda yadda yadda. I, on the other hand, am wondering what is wrong with me that it just seemed like another larger dinner that I had to clean up after while all the men sit on their behinds doing nothing but talking in their own world. Is it meant to be that as a woman I am literally falling off my feet exhausted before we even sit down for Seders during Pesach? Is this what is meant to be a "spiritual experience"? It got me thinking . . . hmmmmmmmm.

I guess if I'm totally honest with myself I'd admit that I'm a wee bit jealous. I'm jealous of my husband's "boy's club" at the small Sephardic shul where two women attend each Shabbat (and really no one cares if they are there or not). I miss my community of friends who are not as "observant" as I am now. For me shabbat has always been about the Torah reading--in three years I have only missed one Shabbat. For some reason this is how I make my connection with HaShem (G-d) on Shabbat. But as for the rest, I'm truly missing something because for me, watching my husband study, nap or basically wait for his attention on a Saturday afternoon is not fun for me. Of course there is spending time with the kids which is always nice until they start fighting and then, well . . . not so enjoyable. There are those occasional times on Shabbat afternoon where my husband will study with me, and those are times I cherish because they truly bring me joy . . . they are just somewhat rare.

Last Shabbat the Rabbi, who is really someone I admire and is a wise man, was giving a lecture in Hebrew as he does every Shabbat. I understood about 50% of what he was saying but the part that I understood was him telling this group of men that their wives should encourage them to study Torah. That this is a part of the role of the wife--to kick their husbands out of the house to get to the shul and study in addition to the other hours of time spent daily praying in the morning and the evening (how interesting that the prayers happen to conveniently coincide with the most difficult times of the day with kids when women need the most help--wake-up time, breakfast, getting ready for school, carpool, dinner, homework, bickering, bath, bed time) . . . hmmmmm.

Coincidentally, later that week my husband was reading from one of his books and was telling me how one of the sages says a woman experiences less joy in this lifetime than a man (shocking news for me)--that her role is a more difficult one in that she has to support her "husband's will" to study Torah and that her reward comes in Olam Habah (the next world) where she is rewarded for all the times she encouraged him to study Torah . . . her role has more to do with diapers and dishes in this lifetime I guess. Maybe this is why G-d created the mitzvah of Onah (if you don't know what that is, you MUST learn immediately) so at least we have that going for us . . . hmmmmmmmm.

(For those of you who are feeling their feathers ruffle and are ready to call me the "F" word (feminist that is) don't be so quick--I am personally of the opinion that religion and politics have no business crossing streams--for me this is not about what's "fair" or "equal" but rather it is about quality of life on a day-to-day basis which, based upon what I see, seems to elude many orthodox women.)

Then it dawned on me!! So this is why when I hop around from orthodox shul to orthodox shul trying to find my place all of the women look so miserable and exhausted!! They are Suffering Tzadikot! So, you ask, what is a Tzadika? Well, it would be considered by definition a wise and righteous woman, a G-d fearing woman, a woman who sees the needs of her husband and family and is willing to sacrifice herself, a "spiritual" woman. So now we have a new term I've coined to describe all of the women who so bravely cover their heads, cook the food, raise their kids, go to the mikveh, support and please their husbands, pop out babies one after the other (we have GOT to have that talk about birth control), work jobs, and just generally do it all in the name of . . . what? In the name of WHAT? HaShem? The Light? Their husbands? Their reputation as a Jewish woman? Their parents? Their children? Their lineage? Their Guilt? Themselves?? I guess it's really not my business why anyone does anything, but I for one wish I could come to peace with why I do it because I'm still not sure. I know for certain it has something to do with my relationship with G-d as I generally don't care what other people's perceptions of me are, but if I am truly doing it for my relationship with G-d, then shouldn't I feel JOY? UNADULTERATED JOY??? What is missing here? WHAT AM I MISSING??? The stream of thought continues . . . hmmmmmmmm.

Maybe I am simply too selfish for this lifestyle. Maybe I am thinking that I am "all that" and "spiritual to boot" but really I'm just ignorant and don't get it. I'm open to that possibility completely. Maybe because I didn't grow up so "religious" there is a larger learning curve and someday things will click for me and I'll be able to adapt. Or maybe it's because I'm 38 weeks pregnant with my fourth child and haven't seen my feet in a couple of months which makes me VERY grumpy. . . hmmmmmmmmm.

This brings me to: What do I really want this lifestyle for? Why should I want or need to adapt to this "observant" lifestyle? I can only come up with one answer: I know that there is something here; some very deep and expansive wisdom in this lifestyle and in these teachings that can really bring a person very close to G-d and to our fellow beings. I know that if I am able to tap into it it will make me a better wife, mother and person in general. I know that I will be able to contribute more in the world. I know this in the core of my being. Which is why I guess week after week I continue to struggle and wrestle with the storm of emotions that arises and with the total contradiction between what one part of me wants vs. what the other part of me wants . . . hmmmmmmmmmm

. . . or, maybe, just maybe, I'm too much in my head and not enough in my heart . . . and I just need to look at my ex-gangster-now-turned-rabbi-husband and my beautiful kids and know how much I love them and how much I am loved . . . and just simply be happy.



To be continued . . .


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Nice to meet you . . .

I suppose if you are going to take the time to read words that I put on a page you might want to know a little something about me. It’s the way the mind works: we need categories and boxes to fit people into in order to make sense of whom and what they are about. Please don’t be expecting much in this regard from me. My husband continues to tell me he is trying to “figure me out”—so far no one has . . . including me. So, I’ll throw out a few titles of boxes that I might dip a toe into now and then to help frame my perspective to the degree that it can be framed: I look like an orthodox Jewish woman (more on that in later blogs). I’m 38. I’ve been called “hot” before—some days I actually believe it, most days I don’t. I’ve been a club rat; could have drank most of you under the table, had a tattoo of a heart in an unmentionable location that I later removed. Now-a-days my time consists mostly of caring for my kids, managing the logistics of the family and working. For those astrology buffs I’ll feed your curiosity: I’m Capricorn, Taurus rising, Gemini moon with Mars in Scorpio. Grew up in a Jewish home but not so observant—kept kosher but not Shabbat. My mom is a convert born in Germany, my dad born in the USA but from German and Persian descent. I have 3 amazing kids from my first marriage (was with him for 15 years) which thankfully ended amicably, and am about to give birth to my fourth child (remind me to talk about birth control when you’re “religious”), the first with my second husband—we’ve been married for just over a year after an extensive courtship of 6 weeks . . . after all, when you’re THAT attracted to someone and you’re trying to “play by the rules” how long can you hold off having sex? Better to get married and be able to have kosher sex and figure the rest out later, right? Crazily enough it seems to be working . . . not to say it has been easy, but I think the whole restriction before marriage thing might actually work. But I digress.

I’ve done a little bit of everything both personally (I’ll let you interpret) and professionally. Truthfully my resume is lengthy and impressive, but who really cares. For our purposes it’s enough that I have a pulse and can string words together in a coherent and hopefully thought provoking way. Let’s see . . . what else? My oldest son (12.5 yrs) has high functioning Autism (Asperger’s Syndrome)—very funny and warm—tests at the college level for smarts while only being in 6th grade, requires a lot of watering and care. My middle son (10.5 yrs) is also a smart one . . . book smart and a smart ass with movie star good looks—no seriously, since he was an infant people would stop me in the grocery store to tell me how gorgeous he is. The witty pediatrician told me that I should just sew the condom on him now to save myself the headaches later (she really did say that). Truthfully he’s an amazingly interesting kid—he requires hugs and your undivided attention when he has something to say. My daughter (5.5 yrs) is not from this world. No really, she tells me not to tell anyone but that she is an alien from another planet and sometimes I actually believe her. I’m waiting for her to start teleporting around the place. She is highly sensitive and psychic and says the most positively profound things I have ever heard—she requires freedom and whole lot of respect—which I give to her as I would hate for her to vaporize me with her laser vision. I’m curious to see who #4 is . . . to be continued.

As for my husband, he’s a reformed bonafide bad boy (what’s the term? Ba’al Tshuva?) most of which I didn’t learn until after the marriage . . . G-d really knows how to work things, I’ll tell you. Had I known half this stuff I wouldn’t have thought twice about dating him let alone marrying him . . . but I would have also missed out on the absolute love of my life (and really amazing sex) so it’s all water under the bridge as they say. I look at it this way: I was also no angel so let’s just say we’ve gathered lots of “life” experience to share only with one another now (yes, we are actually “shomer negia”—we do not hug or touch anyone of the opposite sex other than each other—boy would our ex boyfriends and girlfriends get a laugh out of that one—but again, I digress). I’m pretty convinced he’s probably the only man on this planet who can handle me both in and out of bed—I guess it takes an Israeli/Iraqi Sephardic ex-gangster turned orthodox Jewish man to do the job. Who knew? And we met on JDate of all places . . . we were both on the site exactly two weeks—again, G-d works in mysterious ways.

(On a side note: he’s actually only about a year away from Smicha (this refers to officially becoming a rabbi) and is quite the genius in the arena of Halacha, Gemara, Kabbalah, etc. There’s just one thing that I can’t seem to grasp . . . if he becomes a rabbi (by title not by trade please) then that makes me . . . ?????? Let’s not go there now as I can only handle so much of this at a time. I’m still trying to recover from him buying a black hat to wear on Shabbat.)

His ex-wife is a very cool Christy Brinkley look-alike . . . we get along well and I respect her and thank her for taking all of my husband’s crap back then so that I don’t have to today. . . he has four amazing kids from that marriage that I consider my own. We are for sure the Jewish version of the Brady Bunch when we are all together. I can't say much else other than my husband is the best, at least for me, and I feel blessed to be going through "the process" with him. Baruch HaShem, Bli Ayin Hara, Thank G-d, I believe would all be appropriate at this point.

That’s probably enough of a glimpse of me and the family for now. I’m going to write stuff that I’m sure will offend some people but please know this is not my direct intention. After sharing things with friends and being encouraged to document my thoughts in blog format I finally decided to do it. Really what you will be witnessing on some level is my process because I make no guarantees that what I write one day remains my opinion or state of being the next. As we all are, I’m a work in process. So, having said that, drop me a note if you have something to say in response to what I write. Then I know at least one person is reading this!

Disclaimer: In my writing it is important that you know I don’t represent anyone or anything other than myself—I would hate for you to think that the way I think is the way most “mothers” or “Jewish women” or “wives” or “writers” or “whatever” thinks. Oh yes, one other thing: I could not care less if you really knew my true identity because that’s just how I am, but out of respect for my kids, and the more “graphic” way in which I often speak and write, I will remain under cover for now. If and when the time is right that may change too . . . but for now, just call me Tatiana (or Tati for short)—a nickname given to me by a very dear friend as he made fun of me for covering my hair with scarves that made me look like a fortune teller. Oh the joys of being a spiritual Jewish woman . . . but that’s a story for another blog.

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