Pain, Gain, and Rain
by Ruchi
The pain of raising kids, they say, is its pleasure.
Thirteen years ago, our son Avromi was born.
Two weeks late. He was in no rush whatsoever. Wanted to do things at
his
own
pace.
His bar mitzvah weekend is upon us, and so are all the cliches. "I can't believe he's already 13." "Were did the time go?" "Seems like it was only yesterday." But not really. Nostalgia is a walk down memory lane with all the stones removed. But when you remove the stones, you lose reality. The reality of raising kids is this: Pain. Gain. And rain.
Pain:
Interrupted sleep. Late-night trips to the pharmacy. Phone calls from school. Pants that are suddenly too short, and no new ones available anywhere in sight. Favorite shirts that are dirty in the laundry. Fear. Disappointment. Exhaustion. Patience that wears frightfully thin. Cutting short a lunch date to run to school for a pick up.
Gain:
Hilarity. Amazement, at the genetic maze. Shared moments of fun that could never be scripted. Laughing so hard that your drink comes dripping out of your nose. A conversation with a mom, about how polite your child is. Bedtime revelations that remind you why mothering is the most rewarding thing you could ever do. A burst of excited joy, arriving home from school, filled with excitement about a party, a prize, a science fair.
Rain:
It's supposed to rain this weekend. You know what that means? I have no control. Moreover, I never did. How apropos is that? I can put in all the pain. I can enjoy all the gain. But ultimately, there may or may not be rain. Because while my realm of effort is unlimited, my realm of control is very limited. Results not guaranteed. After all the pain and all the gain, it may very well rain.
And that's OK too. G-d calls the shots, not me. Which may well be the most reassuring message I want myself - and my son - to know, at this: his first milestone birthday.
