Making do

Where has the time gone?

It seems like just a week ago we celebrated my baby's third birthday. Of course, she doesn't like to be called "baby" anymore. She's my big girl. She wears big girl panties. She eats big girl foods, and insists on doing everything, and I mean everything, by herself. To be three and on top of the world. It's exhilarating, freeing, and slightly maddening.

Of course, a three year old can't do everything by herself. And that dependence breeds frustration, and occasionally anger. I took my son to soccer practice last week and brought along the ballerina to get her out of the house. When my "big girl" realized she'd been left behind with her daddy she threw a fit of glorious magnitude. She jumped up and down with her little fists clenched in helpless rage for the full two hours we were gone, sobbing angry, hot tears of betrayal. How could we leave her behind?

When we got back, I got an earful of hurt and fury. "I (sob) wanted (sob) to go (sob) to shoka pactish (bitter sob)!" My poor husband looked worn and stressed. "I didn't get any work done." He lamented.

Since her birthday, Passover has come, and come, and come, and reluctantly gone. I planned, I shopped, I forgot things and shopped again. I cleaned, and I cleaned, and I cleaned. Slowly it all came together. Why am I stressing out like this? I demanded of my husband. I'm cooking one meal. And it was true. I had no cause to kvetch. I hosted the first Seder at my house and it was a small one, too: my husband and kids and two law school students.

It was a huge disappointment and a small relief. The Passover Seders are a chance for my kids to really shine. They show off their singing voices, their charm, and their amazing knowledge of all things pascal. And what fun is that without an audience? Our guests were smart, interesting, gracious, patient, and suitably impressed. And who wouldn't be? My darlings performed formidably up until the last gasp of the Hallel services. They did the four questions, sang "Dayenu", delighted and informed us from the beginning strains of "Kadesh U'rhatz" sung to "Stairway to heaven" to the closing battle cry, "L'shana haba'ah b'Yerushalayim," Next year in Jerusalem!

At the same time, it felt lonely.

I have fond memories of Passover Seders in my mother's house with the whole family and various friends around the table. To me Passover is rented tables and folding chairs, thirty people including half a dozen misbehaving cousins, and platters piled high with sumptuous steaming delights. At least we had the last part. I even made my Turkish/Cuban Sephardi grandmother's gefilte fish recipe from scratch.

For the next three festive meals, we were invited out to friends' houses. Each meal was more delicious than the next, and the company warmer and more delightful. Who needs Passover cruises? There's nothing like surrounding yourself with family and friends on the holidays. It more than made up for our anemic Seder turnout.

During the next several days, I made a concerted effort to get my kids out and about. We were blessed with warm, and mostly sunny weather. I took them to an indoor amusement place, aptly called "Go Bananas". Since it was during a public school day, the establishment was loaded with observant Jews on their Spring break. I hooked up with a friend and her kids and we let our kids run loose while we kept a wary eye on the youngest ones.

For the twentieth time, my three year old slipped my watchful gaze. I searched for her all over the place, only to discover that she had convinced my son's classmate to take her on the indoor rollercoaster. It wasn't a giant 60 mile-an-hour double loop monstrosity, or anything. It was a kiddie-ride that climbed a small hill, sped down and took a sharp turn. It was more jarring than speedy. I ran to the ride's exit anticipating howls of terror, but was greeted with a stunned look of disbelief as if to say, "you didn't warn me!" I didn't know!

I expected tears but got, "I wan' go again!" instead. What could I do? I shrugged and sent her with her big sister, proud of my fearless wonder.

The next day we went to the zoo, and the following day to the Kohl's children's museum, loaded with fruit, Passover snacks, and Passover chocolate chip cookies. Passover isn't the easiest holiday to eat healthily. Matzah is known as the "bread of our affliction", and is also known to cause great digestive afflictions.

For eight days we "make do" without our usual fallbacks: bread, pasta, tortillas. We eat matzah-related foods instead. But we don't "make do" in the scatological sense. In recent years I have discovered a healthy (and high fiber!) alternative to the rice and grains we are denied: quinoa. Unfortunately, I have been less successful convincing my children that it isn't yucky. So for a week I feed them meat, chicken, cold cuts, and more meat, and I cram as much fruit in them as I can.

And by the third day we are all declaring, "LET MY PEOPLE GO!"

Passover ended last night. I was up until after midnight putting my kitchen back to normal. Today I went grocery shopping and was shocked to find that prices had doubled in the past week. A small jar of yeast was ratcheted up to $7.99. I nearly passed out from shock.

My husband is back to work, preparing for his exams, the kids are enjoying their last lazy days of computer games and videos before returning to school, and I am facing my next challenge: my diva's 6th birthday. It's going to be a "Fancy Nancy" party. The birthday girl is ready to go.


If only I could...