March Nine, Two Thousand and Eleven.

Mika and me

For more than a year and a half:

Life has been busy, been crazy, been up and down. In that time, I’ve had a house shifting, a company closing, two jobs, three maids and more. But being the parent that has to do the morning shift – that includes: fetching my wife to the bus-stop, getting home, getting the twins dressed, getting them their medicine, getting them their vitamins, (sometimes) encouraging them to be toilet trained, training them to brush their teeth, feeding them their morning milk; and trying to keep everyone from irritating each other AND the baby girl; and then finally, walking them to preschool – all between 7.30 and 8.30 a.m, is tough.

And tiring.

And I do complain.

But it is, and sometimes, I have to remind myself sometimes, a privilege. One of the best parts of each day is walking Michael and Zev to school. Sometimes we just talk. Sometimes we sing. Sometimes, we stop to eat cheese, or look at a spider. The best part.

Next month, I will be embarking on a new chapter for our family where I’ll be given an awesome role and in a fantastic opportunity. We’ll have more money. My wife can take a break and you know, live…and enjoy our family.


I will have to start work at 8.30 a.m.



Today was a normal day. Wife reached the bus-stop on time. All three children were good. Zev got his meds. New maid (third one, her second week) even got them changed to uniforms without me.

BUT. They were just so infuriatingly slow. After the upteenth time of asking both of them to take their gummies and put on their shoes, I grabbed Prudence and walked out. Not really in anger, more to emphasize a point about listening, timeliness or some other adult thing we think we’re justified in doing, when we lose our patience. “Auntie will bring you to school today.”

The boys came downstairs where Prue and I waited and everyone was jolly. Until, even I don’t know why, I said “bye” to the boys.

They and particularly Michael, were surprised – I don’t know as much or more than I was. Zev waved but Michael stopped, looked at me, and slowly raised his hand. Then being obedient – he caught up with Auntie Leah who was already holding Zev’s hand, and  started walking to school.

I was carrying Prue and there was no logical reason to put her down with her grandma. Every single day since today had been a reverse, where she was crying for me while I walked the boys down the road. Yet today, felt different.

I’ve never felt that way before as I did today when I said bye and Michael looked at me. For a few seconds, I so regretted doing that and all I wanted was to hold his hand and walk with them.

But I didn’t.

In a month’s time, I won’t have to complain about the morning run. I won’t have to do ten things or more in an hour. And most importantly, of course, I won’t have the daily pleasure automatically anymore, of taking that ten minutes walk with my boys where we talk about how hot today is, or whose birthday it was yesterday, or some other piece of news that is probably meaningless and trivial to most, but life precious and priceless to me.


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