Working girl

I have been thinking a lot about finding a job lately. I knew this stay-at-home mom gig would be temporary from the beginning. My husband teases me about sitting around watching soap operas and eating bonbons while he's slaving away at the library. There's a grain of truth to his jibes. I don't watch soap operas. In fact, I watch just one hour of television a week. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm a Lost addict, and every Wednesday night at 9 pm I move my husband's pants off of the television in our room to enjoy my guilty pleasure. And I'm not eating bonbons, on a regular basis, anyway; but I suspect I'm snacking quite a bit more now that I'm not working. And exercising less.

It's clearly time to get rid of the bathroom scale.

The biggest surprise of staying at home is that I'm far less productive than I was when I had a full time job. The apartment isn't as neat, and, thanks to a wide choice of kosher restaurants here, I'm not spending nearly as much time in the kitchen as I used to. So, what am I doing with all of this time? Beats me.

But my husband's ribbing contains only a small grain of truth. A side-by-side comparison of our typical Sundays clearly demonstrates the fallacy of my husband's torments. Consider the following:

Last Sunday morning I took my son to his piano lesson. I came home and sorted and started the laundry, prepared the children's lunch, and got the girls dressed. I took my older daughter to a birthday party and took the other two shopping for Spring clothes. I took the two kids to a playground until it was time to pick up the big sister. I took the kids home, made sure my son finished his homework and practiced his piano, and did some more laundry. I made supper and baked and decorated cupcakes for the baby's second birthday. I fed the kids supper, bathed all three of them, and put them to bed.

My husband took care of the girls in the morning, rotated the laundry a couple of times, and studied.

Bonbons? Hmph.

It's really not fair to make these comparisons right before Passover. I went to four stores today, and I'm only two-thirds of the way done with my shopping. I also cleaned out the inside of the oven and broiler, on top of my usual household duties. Tomorrow I have to finish cleaning the kitchen, I have to take the car in to get it cleaned out. I have to clean out the car seats and strollers, and I have to buy sheets of linoleum to cover my counters with. With luck, I'll be ready to start cooking on Friday for the Monday and Tuesday night seders.

If I sound like I'm on a caffeine buzz, it's just the adrenaline. So far we have eight law students coming to our first seder. Three more are tentative. My husband was just elected president of the Jewish Law Student Association, and his first executive function is to make sure everyone has a place to go for Passover. He's doing a great job.

And I couldn't be happier. Really! I am totally in touch with my inner Martha Stewart. I have been researching recipes on line. I found several delectable looking Sephardic recipes on the New York Times on line, some fabulous looking Italian recipes in the Chicago Tribune, and I've spent hours on All Recipes exploring perfect roasts, chickens, and soups.

And anyway, Passover isn't Passover unless your home is full of family, friends, and strangers coming together to share a 3000 year tradition. We all do essentially the same things, just a little different. I'm really looking forward to incorporating the new with the old. And seeing the looks on our guest's face when we continue my Abuela's startling and loud family custom, is worth all the time spent in the kitchen.

But, of course, the best part for me is seeing my kids participate in the services more and more each year. My diva has been practicing all of the songs and prayers she's been learning in her nursery school since Purim wound down a month ago. Her four questions, the Ma Nishtana, has been getting bolder and louder. Her ten plagues song is as adorable as any song about the horrors brought down upon a Godless nation can be! She came home with a bag full of Passover-themed projects: a seder plate, a bag for the Afikomen, a Hagaddah.

And my Son is a budding Torah scholar. His Hebrew reading is flawless, and his knowledge is broader and deeper than a seven year old's has a right to be. I look forward to his commentary and the tough questions he is sure to pose.

And if my baby manages to stay awake and not pull the tablecloth with all of the food on it off the table, well, I'll be every bit as proud of her, too!

No, I'm not sitting at home with my feet up, watching daytime television, and snacking on candies all day, but the pleasure I receive from being able to enjoy my kids (when they're not driving me batty), prepare elaborate meals, and occasionally steal a few hours to blog or play on-line Sudoku, is almost as good.

Then again, adult companionship, the welcome challenges of the work environment, and a regular paycheck, aren't too shabby, either.