Half a Mama

"You're going to drive her??" She stared at me in utter disbelief.

My little girl was frantic. She had a science test to study for, and she couldn't find her notebook. I wasn't really worried. I knew she'd do well on the test anyway. But she was distraught. After a thorough search, I concluded that it definitely was not in the house. So at 8:30 PM, I agreed to drive her back to school to see if it was there.

My big girl was incredulous.

"I would never have dreamed of asking you to do that at her age. You would have told me that it's my responsibility to make sure I have it, and if you drive me, I wouldn't learn that."

She's right.

Sometimes, it seems like I have two sets of kids.

The older set was born when I was younger. I stayed home to raise them. I had more time, more energy and more flexibility. I took them to the playground and I read them books. Bedtime was firm, and there was no snacking before dinner. And...if they left their notebook in school, well...how would they learn to take responsibility if I was always fixing their mistakes?

The younger set has an older mother. I have a lot more patience and tolerance. And so much more appreciation for every moment. I'm more aware of the swift passage of time. I know how fast they grow up, and I savor every minute.

With age also comes wisdom. I learned that some things are not worth getting worked up about. I learned to choose my battles.

But I don't have as much time to spend with them as I'd like, and I don't have the energy I used to have. I'm tired. Bedtime is not a concept they are familiar with. There's a lot happening around the house at night, and they want to be a part of it. So I make a lame attempt at getting them into bed, and then I go to sleep and hope they do the same sometime soon. If they want something and I can't think of any reason not to get it for them, I will. My little girl has too many pairs of shoes, and my little boy has too many books and toys. And...if they leave their notebooks in school, I'll drive them there to get it.

My older kids call me on it all the time.

"We were never allowed to do that."

"You never let us take that much snack to school every day."

"You're spoiling him."

Maybe I am.

I look at my older kids. They are mature and responsible. They are sensible and trustworthy adults and near-adults. They are everything I'd hoped they'd become. And I wonder if I am making a mistake in the way I am raising the younger set. Maybe they need me to be the kind of mother I was to their older siblings. Maybe I should be sticking to a method that has been tested and proven to be effective. Tried-and-true.

But maybe they were given to me at this age because this is the kind of parenting they need. Maybe not every child is meant to be parented in the same way.

Or...maybe I am aware of what I am unable to provide, and I am trying to create some sort of balance. Trying to make it up to them in some way, maybe.

Which brings to mind a story I read about a Rebbetzin in Meah Shearim whose married daughter came to visit and watched as her mother gave her much younger sister a potato chip.

"Mama," she cried, "when I grew up, I had to wash six floors in order to earn a half of a potato chip!"

"When you were little," the Rebbetzin replied, "you had a whole Mama, so Hashem knew it was enough for you to have half a potato chip. Now, 25 years later, your sister has half a Mama, so Hashem provided her with a whole potato chip."

More Mama, less potato chip.

Less Mama....more potato chip.