Wannabe 02/15/2011
 
I met a woman who recently delivered at a natural birthing center, in a pastoral setting (ie. not a hospital), who went home three hours after giving birth to bond with her other children, and she described her experience as serene and immensely spiritual. She also does yoga.

I gave birth in a hospital--albeit naturally--where I stayed for three days wonderibg how in the world I would manage when I got home. I've endured a total of one yoga class my entire life.

I met a woman who wears blazers, pencil skirts, and silk scarves everyday, and patent leather shoes. And it's not a job requirement.

The only blazers I own are collecting dust in my closet and if I wore a scarf it would be of the woolen, outerwear variety.

I met a woman whose house is prepetually clean and she loves spending all afternoon playing with her children.

My house is perpetually messy and I never feel like I've played with my kids enough.

Pause.

So what?!
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Ess, Mein Kint 04/29/2009
 

I've been told my blog is too pareve, not enough controversy. Well, I'm not one to create controversy but thought-provoking is right up my alley. See if the following observation falls under the food for thought category.

Recently, we hosted a family for a meal--wonderful people with adorable kids. What's more, they ate! Most of the time, half the food I serve goes back into the fridge, but this time there was hardly a crumb left, and I had prepared a ton! Well, the kids eventually regrouped to play and the adults began to shmooze. Eventually, the men left to Shul (synagogue), and the woman and I began to do what women do best--clear the table :-)! (Feminists, relax, I was really and truly joking!) Now, when I clear the table it goes something like this:

Pick up plates. Scrape them off. Discard garbage in the trash. Put dishes and silverware in the sink.

Here's what my guest did:

Pick up plates. Eat the kids leftovers. No garbage to discard in the trash. Put dishes and silverware in the sink.

It struck me very forcefully and it made me sad. She must have been satiated; I think everyone at the table was, based on the amount of food consumed. There is something so...self-loathing about the action of eating the kids' leftovers, in my mind. The underlying message is, somehow, "I am the trash".

Don't get me wrong: I am very careful about preventing waste in all areas, not just food. But is consuming my children's half-eaten leftovers a sublime act of righteousness?

Or does it reinforce a damaging and tragic belief that lurks subconsciously, under layers and layers of half-eaten leftovers? What say you?

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