Ah, no wearing leather shoes… totally forgot, I thought in surprise while looking up halachos of Tisha B’av. Then again, I wear sneakers daily and haven’t touched real shoes or heels in months. 

My Tisha B’av experience is memories from sleepaway camp: throwing my clothing on the floor, reading Eicha on overturned benches, checking the clock before saying the daily Chumash. It looks nothing like that now.

This year, I spent the hour before the fast began putting a crying kid to bed early. I didn’t have time to wash for bread. After another three rounds of bedtime (missing Eicha), I started watching a documentary but fell asleep nursing my baby. And today I’m running after him.

It’s too hard to fast and take care of my kids. Why do I have to do this??

It’s a Galus problem that we have to fast and still take care of kids… and that taking care of kids is difficult, in general. As long as we don’t have a Bais Hamikdash, we will feel “tza’ar gidul banim”.

Also, you’re human! You need food and water on a regular day, even when your kids are in school (or when you’re the babysitter). Of course you feel grumpy and impatient.

This is also a great opportunity to actually tap into this day on a level that we wouldn’t be able to access without being a mother. Motherhood gives us a new identity that takes getting used to. That’s why a day like this, if it’s always been commemorated in a way that is no longer possible, can feel fuzzy and unsatisfying. It also allows us to access the real essence of the day. 

(For more on this, see my article on being a mother on Yom Kippur.)

If you’re used to going to shul or listening to shiurim, it can be hard to connect emotionally or spiritually while chasing after kids.

My teenage self would be horrified at spending Tisha B’av afternoon in the dollar store… but she didn’t have four little kids to entertain. I’m in a different stage now. I don’t beat myself up about connecting to this day differently. 

I’m grateful for having practical things to “check off” in observance of the day, which is why I looked up the halachos. No leather shoes? Check. (If I just remember!!) No eating, no drinking, sitting on high chairs or learning Torah? Done. There’s actually not much to do… other than somehow “feel” the day.

How can I feel like I’m actually mourning?

Our high school Parsha teacher asked us why we wanted Moshiach to come. After a few generic answers like “to end war”, she paused and said, “You’re allowed to have a selfish reason to want Moshiach.” We sat quietly, knowing her mother had recently passed away.

Ending world hunger sounds nice, but personal motivation is just… more motivating. If the destruction of the Bais Hamikdash feels too abstract, think smaller and closer to home.

We can mourn our personal struggles, dreams destroyed, and private losses. All of these are only possible due to being in Galus, anyways.

This day is a beautiful invitation in the cycle of our calendar to stop and allow us to feel grief, especially if we haven’t made time for it during regular, busy life:

• The baby that wasn’t born
• The birth that didn’t go as planned
• Struggles your child faces
• Challenges in your marriage
• Rifts in relationships

Even if I had time to cry, I need to be calm and present for my kids!

Crying feels good (literally), but it’s only one way to express grief. Equally valid: soundless, quiet, introverted or other less obvious displays of emotion.

And a crying session isn’t more legitimate than small, intentional moments of reflection. You might find these just as meaningful without requiring a drastic emotional shift.

THIS Year in Yerushalayim!

This year, Tisha B’Av feels closer and more relevant than ever. It’s not hard to imagine a world where our homeland is invaded and we are persecuted – it’s our current reality. When Moshiach comes, Tisha B’av will be the most joyful Yom Tov. We are ready!!

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