I haven’t sat down to eat in a year

I have not sat down to a meal in almost a year.

I worked this out tonight. I was standing up when it hit me, obviously.

In our house everyone gets fed. Three boys. My husband. Jesse, our 17-year-old dog. I eat in between, on my feet, off whatever plate is nearest, while I hand out seconds and wipe the counter.

Then the evening shift starts. Meal prep for tomorrow. School bags emptied of crumpled letters and half-eaten snacks. Uniforms laid out. Laundry in, laundry out. Bills paid. Groceries sorted into cupboards. Swim kit packed. Football kit packed, and checked again for the shin pads. Tutors booked, rebooked and paid.

None of these jobs is hard on its own. Each takes ten minutes. Together they take every minute I have, and they never finish. I go to bed with a list and wake up with a longer one.

I am burnt out. I did not want to write that sentence, so I am leaving it in.

I have lost my calm touch. Stress and anxiety have moved in instead. Most working mothers know those two well. So does any mother, really.

It shows. A little too much shouting. A little too much iPad time. Not always the healthiest of meals. I feel guilty about all of it. Then again, what is being a Jewish mother without a side of Jewish guilt?

I left a big job and started my own firm so I could be there for my boys. I am there. I am just never sitting down.

Growing up, I learned that shalom bayit, peace in the home, was something a Jewish woman kept. She lit the candles. She smoothed things over. She made sure the house ran so quietly that nobody noticed it running at all.

The Talmud has a striking line on this. The rabbis ask what a poor family should do if they can only afford one candle on a Friday of Chanukah. Should they light it for Chanukah or for Shabbat? Shabbat wins, for the sake of peace in the home. A family cannot sit together comfortably in the dark.”

I love that answer. The Shabbat candle was never meant to be decorative. It is there so a family can sit at the same table and see each other’s faces.

Somewhere along the way I turned shalom bayit into a job description. Keep everyone happy. Keep everything moving. Absorb the chaos so nobody else has to feel it. The house stays calm because I never stop.

A home where one person never sits down can look very peaceful from the outside. I am no longer sure it counts.

I suspect many of you reading this are standing up too. Mothers, mostly, though not only. People who would never dream of letting a guest eat on their feet, and who have not eaten a hot meal at their own table in months.

So here is my plan, and I am putting it in print so I cannot wriggle out of it.

This Friday night I am going to light the candles and then sit down. I will stay sitting through the soup. If someone needs more ketchup, they know where the fridge is. The dog is the one exception. Jewish law says you feed your animals before you sit down to eat yourself, so Jesse will get her dinner first. She is 17. She knows her rights.

Shalom bayit should include the person who lights the candles. I would like to see my family’s faces across the table. I would like them to see mine.

And to every mother and father out there who is one packed kit bag away from losing their mind: pull up a chair. I will save you a seat.