healthy families
A Date, a Window and a Lesson Learned “Finish your bagels before I leave the house; bagels are a choking hazard,” I warn my 10-year-old twins. “Text me when you are out of the shower,” I remind my teen before running off to work in the morning. “I know people who have slipped.” “Make sure you unplug the toaster, text me when you get there, don’t run near the steps.” My list of worries sometimes seems ridiculous, but my kids are great: they humor me and do as instructed. I wasn’t always this cautious. In fact, I used to be a pretty carefree mom. My story of extreme overprotectiveness, bordering on insane, dates back to when my oldest children were just babies.
My Miracle by Basya Kovacs
November Issue
We all have miraculous events that give us pause, and sometimes even reshape our lives. Reminding ourselves about these experiences allows us to stay focused on the endless blessing Hashem gives us. Sharing these defining moments can inspire others to appreciate Hashem’s endless kindness.
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Fifteen years ago I was 22 years old and already the proud mother of a son and a daughter, Simcha and Sarah*, born 14 months apart. They were pretty easy babies, and as they got a bit older, they were super cooperative and well behaved, allowing me the illusion that I was a supermom. They slept well, they ate well, listened well and delighted me with every new stage and milestone. While other children got into mischief and danger, mine played nicely and seemed to naturally stay out of trouble. The fact that my son didn’t talk at all and was almost two years old did not concern me at all. I knew he understood what I was saying, and I could usually figure out what his one word “ba” meant. We had an understanding. Life was good. Being a mother was easy. It was a beautiful Sunday in May and excitement was in the air. My younger sister Adina had moved to Monsey after seminary and was dating a guy she seemed to like. Today was date number three, and since my parents still lived in Chicago, my husband and I were to have the honor of hosting my sister, meeting the guy she was dating, and seeing them off. I was feeling honored, and pretty excited, as not much usually happened in my sleepy neighborhood in Staten Island. We cleaned the house until it shone, dressed our two little ones in clothing that my sister deemed cute enough, and set out some cold drinks. Adina got herself ready and my husband and I calmed her nerves as well as our own, and then...it was time. Moshe walked up the path to our little townhouse, and we welcomed him into our home for some awkward conversation about traffic and the weather. We were impressed by Moshe’s maturity and struck by his handsomeness, and while there wasn’t much time to get to know him, we liked what we saw. When we felt we had done our fair share of chit chatting and analyzing we sent them off with our blessings. As soon as they were out the front door I scooped up Simcha, who was almost two at the time, and ran upstairs to my bedroom window to sneak one last peek as they walked to the car. I opened my bedroom window and Simcha and I climbed onto my bed and gave Adina one last wave and two thumbs up...and off the adorable couple went. “Job well done,” Yehuda and I congratulated ourselves, feeling very mature. Yehuda went to our nearby shul to learn and I put Sarah down for a nap.
