Vegging Out

Last week, I planted a vegetable garden. It is fairly large, about 9’ x 11’. My garden has tomatoes, Romaine lettuce, banana peppers, herbs (basil, cilantro, parsley, rosemary and French lavender), red peppers, zucchini, cucumber and broccoli, along with some flower seeds. Just today, I saw the first vegetables growing – five tiny tomatoes and a banana pepper.

You might think that I planted it for my kids to show them about where food comes from or as a fun family activity, but actually, it is just for me. It has become my little haven.

There is something so satisfying about working with plants and the earth. It has some qualities in common with parenting in that you feel like you are nurturing living things, but these beautiful growing things you see growing a little bit more every day and take pride in are quiet and still. They have simple needs; just some water and sun, protection from bugs, rabbits and dogs.

Every morning, I go out and water it and say the Ana B’koach (one of the most powerful prayers) to my plants. I feel the sun on my face and look at the growing plants and I start my day feeling great.

I’m not sure why it has this effect on me. Maybe it is the energy of the plants themselves. According to Kabbalah, plants have a positive energy associated with them. Surrounding yourself with plants including trees helps you restrict, so you have a little extra energy to say no to that piece of chocolate cake or to choose not to get angry. In fact, plants have their own holiday, Tu B’Shvat, the new year of the trees.

In any event, having the garden has helped keep me in balance. Right now, when I am surrounded by kids non-stop talking, screaming, laughing, crying and arguing, I'm longing for my garden’s sturdy growing plants with their sweet, sweet silence.

The Courage to Invite

We love to entertain. We have a one-story house with an open floor plan and a huge back patio and yard and we invite people over fairly often. We have to; that’s the only way we have any kind of social life.

Many moons ago, we had a social life where people actually would invite us to parties or over for dinner. But that was before we had five kids. Apparently, something about that number is very intimidating, even to close friends.

I like to think that they want to invite us, but just as the words are about to escape their lips, visions of their house in shambles appear in their minds, with small savages wrapped in remnants of their curtains running around screaming as they smash their antique chairs to make a bonfire in the living room. Then they dismiss that crazy thought and remark on the weather.

So we have people come here, and yes, we like it. For one thing, it forces us to clean and declutter the house. And, of course, we enjoy sharing. It is relatively low stress to have people here because the kids have activities they can do and places that they can go to give us a modicum of peace and adult conversation. But I always thought it sure would be nice if someone would make the mental leap and invite us to their house.

Then someone did. It was a couple with a little girl who is friends with my 5-year old, Leah. The girls play with each other on Shabbat at the Kabblah Centre. The father, Lee, is very nice. His wife, Debbie, it turned out, went to the same middle school as I did. But they certainly did not number among our closest friends. Even so, they invited us to their home one Sunday, and we, shocked as we were, accepted.

We had a lovely time. We ate and drank together, watched some football, and the children played in the backyard. Nothing was broken. And it got me thinking: here was proof that it was possible to bring our big family over to someone else’s house and for everything to be just fine.

So, armed with this new confidence, I started to subtly grouse to my friends about how no one ever invites us anywhere. Slowly, our friends are getting the hint. For the first time ever, we were invited over for Thanksgiving.

Previously, the only invitation for Thanksgiving we ever got was to my parents’ house. However, since they moved to North Carolina for half the year and my dad started to teach at the university there, his teaching schedule has prevented us from being together for Thanksgiving.

My in-laws come down from upstate New York around Thanksgiving every year, but they always spend the holiday with my father-in-law’s son in Tennessee. Of course, it is also true that my in-laws have never invited us up to see them when they are in Florida for the season. They prefer to make the trip down to Boca one or two times during that period instead.

So, getting back to this Thanksgiving, our friends, Martina and Wolfgang, invited us over to their house, along with a wonderful group consisting of another couple with a baby, a single mom with two kids and another lady, all good friends of ours as well. I had already bought a turkey for our planned solitary holiday celebration, as well as some of the trimmings, which I brought over to share with the group. I went over early and cooked and prepared with Martina, and then went home to fetch my tribe.

Once again, we had a great time. The children played with each other and occasionally came in to grab some food as the adults ate and chatted. Only a couple of things got broken – a glass jar of gravy (not my child) and some parts of a porcelain tea set (unfortunately, my kid), which I will, of course, replace. But over all, the impact was minimal.

Martina told me that she’d had to work up the courage to invite us over, but that it was worth it. Now, another friend is trying to work up her courage as well. We may end up having a social life again, after all. Yay! Lepers no more…