Momming with Mimi: Happily Replaceable

Mimi Hecht

Mimi Hecht is a stark contrast to the by-the-books, food pureeing, self-sacrificing supermom that many women feel pressured to live up to. Her articles like “The 10 Untruths about Motherhood” and “My Mama Manual” offer women an honest and humorous take on both the joys and hardships in trying to stay sane, stylish and spiritual in Motherland. Through her candor in addressing things like infertility, the high price of groceries or her mind-battle over circumcising her son, Mimi strives to inspire confidence in women and teach new moms to march to the beat of their own drum. To share her thoughts and celebrate all kinds of mothers, she started LADYMAMA a growing online community of modern-day Jewish women. Follow LadyMama on Facebook at facebook.com/JewishWomen

Dedicated to my amazing baby-rocking husband Moshe :)

 [Shown here in one of the shots taken for his album!]  

HAPPILY REPLACEABLE 

My husband and I were just drifting off to sleep after a hectic day when the cries of my seven-month old interrupted the silence.

I lay still, so exhausted, but all my muscles tightened and my jaw clenched. Why does he keep waking up like this? He needs to learn to fall asleep on his own! This is so hard! I have no energy to rock him! I can't keep doing this every night! I decided that I would not rush out of bed to pick him up. Sometimes he puts himself back to sleep, and I prayed tonight would be one of those times.

He continued to cry, with breaks in between. It wasn't escalating, so I was confident he'd go back to sleep.

But the cries didn't have to be that intense to arouse my husband's empathy.

"Mim? I'm going to rock him a little bit," my husband offered.

"Just let him cry, he'll go to bed." I responded quickly. After all, I had made up my mind.

"I'm going to rock him. Babies need to be rocked back to sleep," he insisted.

Now that my husband had surprised me with his opinion on crying it out, I couldn't stop him.

 Before I knew it, my husband was holding the baby, rocking him back and forth, singing softly.

"It's not going to work," I mumbled. "He only goes to sleep when he's rocked with a very specific rhythm."

Really, what I was saying was that there was no way my husband could imitate me and soothe our son to sleep—that there was no way he could replace me.

"He's quiet now, but as soon as you put him down he's going to freak out," I warned.

But my husband let his intuition guide him. He didn't consider the voice of the naysayers—aka, his adoring wife.

As it turns out, my "specific rhythm" is something my ego made up to make me feel good. In under two minutes —more than half the time it normally takes me! — the baby was calm and sleepy in my husband's arms. So he gently put the baby down.

My husband did a short victory dance and got back into bed.

I couldn't help but give my dismal forecast: "He's going to cry, just watch."

But guess what? He didn't cry. Not after he put him down, nor minutes or hours after. My husband had successfully calmed the baby and put him back to sleep without me having to get up, nurse him or rock him in my motions that I was convinced were indispensable.

The room was silent again, but you could practically hear me swallowing my pride.

———————————————————————————

I guess you can say I'm a stubborn woman. I have a hard time letting others get close to the things I know how to do. I'm the kind of homemaker that hates when the cleaning lady does dishes because, hello, I can do it better! Even more so when it comes to motherly tasks, I proudly take the helm. Even areas where my husband helps, I insist on having my hand in the details. When he gives my son a bath, I am silly enough to insist on picking out which pajamas he puts on afterwards. My husband does a lot around here, and always offers to do even more. I usually accept, but then find that I have a hard time letting go completely. After all, how could anyone do anything as well as I do it? And, even deeper, I can't imagine someone else taking my spot, fulfilling my role—even if it would be easier.

I know that there is a little (okay, not so little) control freak in me. And I'm sure my husband knows it too, because he has always respected my motherly decisions in a way that reflects a soldier in an army (guess who the sergeant is).

But I'm starting to learn that this attitude is not going to make my life any easier. I need to let go and let others in — especially the father of my children, my soulmate.

I've always respected my husband's level of intuition when it comes to the kids. I'm always grateful for his help. But I admit, I have mostly loved how he genuinely salutes my motherly command. But last night, his insistence on taking over enabled me to have an overdue realization—that I can share even the most practical hardships of motherhood with my husband, even where my emotions and convention say it's my job.

We all love help from our husbands, but how often do we let them do those things that would seemingly interfere with our motherly prowess? How often do we relinquish control and say "Okay, you take over," even with those motherly tasks we're so deeply attached to? When was the last time you let your husband do things his way? Not every woman deals with this challenge, but those who do know what I mean all too well. To my fellow mothers who relate, I challenge you to make the space for your husband where you normally insist on taking over. You know, with the real stuff. Because he can do it — maybe not just like you, but very possibly even better.


Even if witnessing my husband put the baby back to bed so effortlessly made me feel a little replaceable, I got sleep and the baby got sleep—it's a win-win situation! Not to mention, my husband bonded with his son and feels like he conquered the world.

The way I see it now, if it's going to take a village to raise my children...I think I can start with the help of their father. If I'm going to be replaceable, I'm glad he's the one standing in.

[3] Momming with Mimi: My Friend Escape

[Typed on my phone, October 18th]

One night this week, I met up with a good friend. It wasn't meant to be anything extraordinary, yet I feel like a different person since. I can't help but write about it, for fear it may get lost...

My husband was out of town for a concert. My slumber party plans fell through (;)) and I was lonely and couldn't just go to sleep. So I actually did something that has come to be reserved for date nights and family events—I got a babysitter. The fact that I got a babysitter for the simple pleasure of seeing a friend is unique, since normally I'd never "invest" in nights for friends, rather make sure my husband can be home to guard the snoring kids.

It's been a while since I've had some good face-to-face, in depth conversation with a good friend. Life is so busy lately, and my mind and body are so consumed with the every day that I have forgotten the luxury of heart-to-hearts with an old friend.

How sweet it is!
To meet up with a friend in a dimly lit restaurant. She gets a beer. Me, a salad and smoothie. We jump right in. Everyone needs a friend that can ask "How are you?" and you can actually answer honestly. A friend whom you can actually say things like "I could be happier" and "I'm spread too thin" and "I'm really not that cool."

The kind of friend with whom it feels like you're shooting the breeze yet the conversation is so rich and meaningful that you just gotta pull out a pen and find an old receipt with which to record the epiphanies and really, the entire moment.

I could get into everything we spoke about—marriage, expectations, inspiration, personal critiques, our changes, our future, the ingredients to happiness...but that's not the point.

Because of how rewarding and nurturing this simple date was for me, I feel motivated to encourage my fellow ladies and mamas to call up a friend and arrange some face-time. Out of the house. No kids. No agenda. No curfew. Get lost in conversation. Just because.

On our way home, we rolled the windows down and turned the heat up. My favorite combo. It reminded me of late Seattle nights with my friends, circling the lake blasting oldies. Except this time we were playing my husband's album. I finally got to listen to it as a random person, just enjoying it blasting...not breaking it apart and analyzing it like we usually do when my husband's in the driver's seat. I knew it was good. 'm his biggest fan. But wow. It is goooooood!

I dropped off my friend. But I didn't want to go home. So there I was, just circling Crown Heights like a girl who just got her license, pushing my curfew.

When was the last time you did that?

When was the last time you ignored the ticking bomb of the babysitter, didn't feel rushed, didn't feel tied down...instead, vulnerable to your conversation with a good friend, open to the night, open to getting inspired just when you started to think it impossible.

We all need a bit of freedom. A little runaway. Some good connecting that is a tiny reminder of that soulful, deep person underneath who wants to be heard over house chores and bath time and crying and diapers and—you get the idea. Luckily for us women, this escape can be found in the simple company of a close pal.

Share this post with a friend and make a date. Meet up. Open up. And take the long way home.

[2] Momming with Mimi I Steve Jobs: Seeing a maker

The only thing on my mommy-brain right now is Steve Jobs. Both because I have been a Steve Jobs fan for some time—watching his presentations not for the technology, but for the humanness he imbued in it—and mostly because I am deeply touched by his legacy.

From articles on news sites to the incessant posts on Facebook, everyone is paying their respects to a man that was brave enough to demand that his vision be realized. There are no politics. There are no haters. No jokes. Just the feeling of loss. And appreciation. Everywhere.

I am young, but still, I don't recall a time that a public figure's death was mourned so personally. It must be because we all feel that we've had a hand in his legacy and, moreover, that he bestowed to us many gifts that came from his essence. Steve put his heart and mind into all our hands, in the form of beautiful, functional and inspiring products that became central to both the productivity and fun in our lives. It almost feels like we have personal memories with him.

I can ramble on endlessly, but I'm stopping here for a second to try and tap into what is really moving me the most...

[PAUSE]

I think it has everything to do with how humanity is honoring Jobs right now—what it says about people today. Even though we selfishly gained from Job's vision, and have reaped the rewards of all his brilliant gadgets and gizmos, we so badly want to understand and connect to the mind behind the curtain.

Wouldja look at that. We know Jobs intimately by intimately knowing his creations.

It's reassuring to see that, although we may all be avid consumers, our world sits at a place where we can profoundly acknowledge a maker.