My Boring Day

The boredom was overwhelming on that warm morning of Rosh Chodesh (first day of the new Jewish month). So much so, that it was actually turning into resentment. There was so much I would have rather been doing on this new-moon holiday, the holiday given particularly to women, the holiday that comes only once a month. So much I would have rather been doing than sitting at home, taking care of my kids. There were special women's gatherings to attend, breakfast lectures at local cafés with hot cocoa to drink, song and dance festivals, guest speakers, shopping, Torah learning, meditating, hiking and bonding with my Jewish soul sisters and…and there I was, unable to take part in any of these wonderful options because I was stuck without a babysitter on what was supposed to be my big day out. Stuck, for yet another mundane day of shoveling sweet potatoes and mashed bananas into the mouths of my screaming offspring.

I am right where I need to be Man, was I bored! Sitting at the kitchen table, slouching over my soggy granola, I began to wonder about the specialness of my day. If this was supposed to be a holy and meaningful day for women, was I just hopelessly out of luck? Was there any holiness to be had whilst stranded at home? And at my home, nonetheless? Or was all the fun and meaning way out of my reach? Out on the other side of town, in the streets and cafes where all of the lucky women with babysitters got to hang out?

And then came the interruption. "Ema," my two-year-old daughter chirped, "what's wrong?" In my desperate state, I actually told her. "Well, its Rosh Chodesh, and I really wanted to go out with my friends to this special women's gathering where they sing and dance, and eat and learn, and instead I'm here, just sorta doing nothing, and I'm kinda sad about the whole thing. Y'know?"

With a perfect poker face, she handed me her spoon. "Feed me," she demanded. And so I did. And I learned an invaluable lesson with each extension of the spoon: I am right where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to do. All that rich holiness and meaning was hanging out right there in my very own dirty kitchen. I just had to open my eyes to it. G‑d has entrusted me to take care of these precious souls, to feed them, to educate them, to love them. And this sacred mission is weaved in the gift of the new moon - renewal, birth, life, womanhood, motherhood. This is the real Rosh Chodesh celebration. What could be more appropriate?