Thursday, June 29, 2006
My whole house has been out of control since boychik's arrival. It's hard for me that things are messy, as I have a deep emotional need for order. I can't do much around the house, because the baby always wants to nurse or be held. The kids are wacko, which is nothing new, except that now it's a little wackier. Yaakov and my mom are watching them. Yaakov is much more generous than I am in the "project" department - he lets them really go to town with the paint and glue.
My mom being here is a huge help, but we get into our mother/daughter dramas. Yesterday I broke down in a hormonal fit, and she told me to settle down. I snapped at her and told her to "mix out." Today she said, "I know I can't shower on shabbos, but can I put on make up?" I told her no. She threw up her hands and made this exasperated sound. "You mean I can't wear make-up to my grandson's bris?" I wanted to say, "No, you can't wear all your gross eye liner. You can't cake on the foundation that's the wrong color for you. You can't wear the obnoxious red lipstick with the brown lip-liner." Yaakov answered, "Don't worry - I can't wear my make-up, either."
Then there's the ba'al teshuva weirdness: The bris is on shabbos, and our families have to attend. No mom, you can't wear your scary geisha-face, but all our relatives can drive to shul.
Guess who's giving them directions?