[I wrote this post one year ago, but I didn’t officially start my blog yet. Given the timing, I thought it would be fitting to post this now.]
On the last day of Hanukkah I decided to give my family a gift that they’ve been pining for for the last 8 months. That was when we put down our 2nd cat (we put down his sick brother a few years back) whom I’ve had to endure for my entire 12 year marriage. See, my husband is a cat person and his 2 cats came with him as a packaged deal. Our 3 kids also became cat people, much to my chagrin, and I had absolutely no intention of inviting another moody, territorial, carpet and furniture ruining furball into my home or newly renovated basement. In fact, I was secretly thrilled when I finally got my house back and the last of the cat stuff was discarded.
My kids, however, have been incessantly begging for another feline friend. These cries fell on deaf ears, however, as most of their whining had done lately. Whining, in fact, had become somewhat of a sport in my home. Not just whining, but outright fighting. Sibling conflicts had taken over almost every moment of my home existence. There was always someone arguing with someone else. These conflicts escalated to the point where my youngest two couldn’t seem to breath correctly within two feet of each other without sending the other into full retaliation mode. There was screaming (I’ll admit me often more than them) and shoving, and even kicking at times. I often felt like a referee at a wrestling match where there was no winner. This fighting had worn me down, led to near constant stress and irritation, and was spilling over to my marriage.
You can imagine the reprieve I felt on a recent mom’s trip I took to Israel for 10 days. No kids, no fighting, no responsibilities for 10 WHOLE DAYS!! It was truly a dream; a journey deep into my heart and soul. The trip was so much more than I could possibly explain in words at this moment, but one thing I can say is that it forced me to look at myself, the person I am, and who I really want to be. I came home with a renewed sense of purpose and a new “Zen-like” attitude I was hoping to transmit to my family. I was not going to raise my voice, I was not going to yell, I was not going to lose it … until I did. Re-entry from idealism into reality was much harder than I anticipated. And so it went.
One weekend I found myself alone out at lunch with my feisty trio. No sooner had I sat down at the table after ordering our meal did the arguing ensue. Someone’s legs touched the others’ across the table and kicking and fighting broke out. Rather than my typical default of embarrassment and reaction, I took a long, deep breath, turned to my kids and very calmly said, “The greatest gift you could give your parents is to love each other, to treat each other with kindness and respect”. Without hesitation, my smart alec youngest turned to me and said “Then will you get us a kitty?” Looking directly at all three hopeful pairs of eyes, I replied, ever calmly, “If you can get along for the next 40 days without any fighting, then, yes, I will get you a kitty”. Mind you, I knew there was no way in hell these kids could go 40 minutes, let alone 40 days, without a fight. I was just hoping to get through the rest of the meal in peace and was proud of myself for not responding in anger. Anger had become my modus operandi and how I related to my family on a near daily basis.
No sooner had my impossible challenge been presented, plans were drafted, logistics discussed, virtual cats chosen and named. It was going to be a black and white cat named “Oreo”. A large calendar chart was erected with boxes for each day they behaved which would be marked by a cat sticker. Sticky notes were placed all over the house with mantras such as “Kindness = Kitty”, “Fight-Free Zone” and “We Love Each Other”. I couldn’t help laughing; at least they were creative and working together on something for a change. My husband found this whole charade laughable as well. “Give it two days at most”, he warned me. I thought he was being overly optimistic.
But the days came and went and my kids miraculously transformed before our eyes. Some days I would sense the start of an argument and only had to say, “Oh it looks like you’re fighting”, and it would dissipate before it began. Other days when I started to fear what I had actually done, I semi-jokingly cheered “fight, fight”, and they would immediately stop. Then they started stopping themselves. One day the youngest accidentally brushed against the middle, knocking into her hand and the toy in it. I braced myself for impact. Nothing happened, and my oldest noticed as well. “She just knocked into you and touched your squishy” she pointed out to the middle in disbelief, knowing this would normally set her off. The middle just looked at her, shrugged, and said “That’s okay”. What!?!? Who is this child?
During this time the kids and hubby convinced me to visit the local cat shelter. We walked into what I call my “room of torture”, also known as “the cat room” where you are surrounded by at least 50 cats, many of whom are all black, my deeply engrained childhood superstitious nightmare. As my luck would have it, out of all the creatures in this room, who goes right up to my kids but a black and white tuxedo male named “Sox”, who they immediately renamed “Oreo”. Of course it was love at first sight. We had to pry them away and remind them it’s only been a week; there’s still a long way to go. Another week goes by and we’re back to the shelter, my kids praying that no one has adopted their Oreo. He’s still there, but sitting on a man’s lap. Their concern is palpable, but so is their relief when they find out the man is just visiting, not adopting.
That night I couldn’t stop thinking about Sox/Oreo. It had only been two weeks. Two weeks of calm. Two weeks of bliss. Not just with my kids, but even with my husband. Our voices were softer. Our words were kinder. Our house was just more peaceful, shalom bayit in Hebrew. Isn’t that exactly what I had prayed for just three short weeks ago at the Western Wall, the holiest place on earth? Among my many prayers at the Wall, shalom bayit was one of my most powerful. One that I yearned for with all my being.
Damn cat. Rather than seeing him as something I despise, something to endure, or just something to live with, the way I had looked at the last two cats for all those years, I suddenly saw Oreo as an agent of peace, sent to me directly from the Almightly. Clearly someone up there has a sense of humor. I awoke the next morning on the last day of Hanukkah and wrote a card to my husband and gave him (and later the girls) my gift. What I realized was that Oreo was truly my Hanukkah gift. Through him, I was inspired by my children. I witnessed behavior changes that rivaled any I’ve seen with adults. I, in fact, didn’t do nearly as well as they did in controlling my impulses. But I will keep trying. What was my room of torture was their room of motivation. I will look at Oreo each day and picture my goal of peace just as they saw their goal. I know it won’t be perfect or easy for them or for me. But I won’t give up on my goal. And I know someone above is always listening and cheering me on. Happy Hanukkah!
What goal do you have for the coming year?
