Life of Yeshiva Guy

“All that I am, or ever hope to be, I owe to my Angel Mother”.

–A Lincoln

As I’ve mentioned before, I love going home for Bein Hazmanim. I also love Dira life. No, there isn’t a paradox here. These two forms of living, which live at opposite ends of the life spectrum, can and do co-exist nicely for many of us. True, there are the occasional guys who can’t take life at home or life in the dira, but for most of us, it’s a blast in the dira, and home is good too.

One of the many maalehs (for me, at least) of going home is a one word entity that is expressed perfectly as: Mommy. A doting, caring mother who cares for me, cares about me, cooks for me, etc. is always welcome. Well, not always. I’ll get to that in a minute. But first let me finish the disclaimer stuff. Meals with my favorite dishes are always welcome. Inquiries concerning my day, while not the norm in the dira, are strangely comforting. Auto-laundry service is nothing short of impressive. And the knowledge that a being that unconditionally loves me is just a short distance away is nothing less than a matzav godol (don’t tell anyone I said this; I’m be’etzem a very tough guy- an island and all that jazz). These benefits and more are all part of the being home, and a part of the Mommy experience.

And then there are the downsides. You see, every mother believes, or at least desires to believe, that her bochur’l is perfect. A Yirei Shamyaim, Masmid, well-rounded, handsome, humble, etc. Aleh maalehs. And I do have all of the above, in generous quantities b”ah. But sometimes, especially during Bein Hazmanim, there exists this disconnect between reality and fantasy. I call this the “Mommy Vekker” syndrome. It’s what occurs when the sharp, unimpressive reality of our shfeilus clashes with the olam hadimyon of our Angel Mothers. Case in point:

According to Halacha, I have a chiyuv to wake up at time X to lein Krias Shema. And I must daven before time Y. The immutability of these times (unless you’re Chassidish) doesn’t typically leave Frumme Yidden with potential for “sleeping in”. A shame, I know. But this is the way He set it up. Because of this, I don’t have that much fudge room in my schedule. So when I come home Pesach Bein Hazmanim, and zman K”S happens to be at 10AM (second zman, yes, but who’s counting?), please, please, let me enjoy my beauty sleep. You see, dear mother, sleeping late in the dira is just not an option. Alarm clocks, construction workers, various inexplicable sharp noises, and annoying roommates with penchants for partying to piercing music early morning all conspire to prevent any possible extra poofing time.

I realize that you think I should be more productive; that I should pop out of bed bright and early at 7AM every day Bein Hazmanim. I know that you think that if Totty can do it at 5:30 for the daf, etc., then I certainly should be able to (never mind the vast differential in our respective bedtimes). But you see, Mommy, I don’t feel this way. Neither, as it happens, does the Mishna Berurah or Shulchan Aruch. Certainly, it’s a wonderful thing to be mashkim for tefillah and learning, but really Ma- give me some time (pardon the terrible pun). When I’ll be a Rosh Yeshiva, Rav, or Rebbe, I’ll have plenty of time for that. Until then, Ma, can you please shtell a shtickel slhuf?

Thanks, and Goodnight.

(Photo Credit to louhamilton)