stress-free Pesach

I discovered the secret to a stress-free Pesach. I have been making Pesach for 15 years, so I had a lot of practice.

Listen, the secret is this:

• Don't be pregnant.
• Don't have a newborn.
• Don't be nursing.
• Don't have a crawling baby.
• Don't have children around who spread Cheerios all over multiple times a day.
• Put your children in school so you have plenty of time to hit multiple stores multiple times in search of out-of-town ingredients like yogurt and butter and parsnips.
• Don't make a bris on Pesach (or right after Pesach).
• Don't make a bar mitzvah on Pesach.
• Have year-round cleaning help.

But the biggest secret is that this year I cannot muster that care or anxiety or drive or whatever it is called that sends me into a frenetic cleaning and panic mode. If it will get done, it will get done. If it won't get done, then it won't. Contrasting to the previous years, I have cried from Pesach stress only once so far (but there is still four more days, so stay tuned, freak-out might be coming). This could care less attitude resulted in me yelling at my teary-eyed daughter who wanted to make meringues with me. Too bad it was way after her bedtime. She refused to go to bed. She stalled. And then she came to tell me how she waited THE WHOLE YEAR to make those meringues. Well, I needed them to be the last thing I made for the night because they need to sit in the oven overnight to dry out. So I callously yelled at her. (The meringues turned out sticky. Midda kneged midda? An opportunity for another batch?)

The truth is, I am suffering from caregiver fatigue. When you spend so much time, so much energy and control yourself so much in order to care for someone, you become callous and snappy to everyone else. Sadly, the nearest and dearest did not notice that I have snapped.

But there were all those years and all those babies. And all those people who expected to be hosted, and doted on. And I did all that, all the while slowly breaking inside.

I have invited company for Yom Tov because I feel like I am the fortunate one, without that baby on the hip this year. I am aware that there are others worse off than I am. But there is also a part of me that does not expect anything great from Pesach anymore. I used to plot and strategize how to engage the kids, what shtick to do, how to make Seder about an educational experience and not about the food or the mumbling of the Hagaddah. This year, it will be same old, same old. Someone will be crying. Someone will be complaining. Someone will be unhappy. The food and the effort will be lost in the less-than-pleasant atmosphere. The fun and the lightness: that will come with Chol Hamoed that my school kids await like the coming of Moshiach. But Pesach proper will grind on.

It would be so much easier if I did not think about all of this. It would be easier if I did not consider all the years of small babies and pregnancies as a cruel joke. I have one March baby and three April babies. Oh, you want more from your Yom Tov experience, do you? Well, what can you expect when the kids are little? But the kids do not stay little forever, and the older kids grow up in the shadow of parents being overwhelmed by the little ones. All they experience is stressed-out Pesach.

My oldest three have taken to skipping out on Shabbos lunch. First I rejoiced: they have peers who invite them out! Then I realized that it is not what they are running to that matters, it is what they are running from. By now, I don't know if I have it within me to stop the tide. I just hope that I have a few more years till the children will skip out on the family Seder.

As for me, I will go back to puttering in the kitchen, moving boxes of dishes, cooking in less-than-ideal conditions and focusing on not crying.

post-Pesach

seder table
5:30 erev pesach

My older boys were born right around Pesach. 3 yo was born three weeks before Pesach, and the baby (who just turned one), was born a week after Pesach, which, this year, fell out on Pesach. My line used to be that Pesach is my favorite holiday. I like the challenges of new cooking, I look forward to kids' birthdays and recalling each crazy year, I like many days of Yom Tov when I can change the routine and sit down instead of feeling that I need to accomplish something or other. Usually, I do have a bit of a pre-Pesach freak-out, but it all comes together by Yom Tov, when the kitchen is turned over, the house is chametz-free, and all grocery store runs have been completed. We do our own seder since there is always a small child who needs to go to sleep before we ever start, and I fret about making it meaningful, yet somebody always comes up with some insight out of the left field, making the Yom Tov enjoyable.

seder table
6:30 erev pesach
Kids have to eat

This year, Pesach was just not coming together. I have a Pesach kitchen in this house, precisely because I always make Pesach, but it was still not working out. The bathroom next to the Pesach kitchen had to be repaired. Despite having a full year, the project was completed just three weeks before Pesach. I tried getting an early start on baking by making meringues which I adore, but they flopped. And I could not get enough motivation/anxiety to clean out chametz. Did I mention that we hold by not selling chametz, so we have to actually remove it? Days were ticking off, time was getting close, and I was still in a funk.

Then it dawned on me: what's harder than having a Pesach baby? Trying to make Pesach with a 1 year old! She was doing her part to keep things interesting. She kept throwing things out of her high chair, and spreading those Cheerios everywhere. Besides, a baby of this age needs to be constantly watched. She does not sleep nearly as much as a newborn, and she does not yet have any common sense, but she is mobile and active. I did enclose the living room as a space where she could be contained, but she is only happy in there for so long before starting to cry. So, out of 13 years that I have made Pesach, I was heavily pregnant or with a newborn for 4, and with an acitve one year old for 5. That's nine years of challenges. No wonder I don't feel so gung-ho about Pesach any more.

seder table
7:30 erev pesach

I did pull myself together, invited people over for the meals of the last days, and cooked and served for those meals. The company was pleasant, and it did feel like Yom Tov.

As for the seder prep, I pulled out my collection of Hagadahs, but the boys were most fascinated with The Exodus You Almost Passed Over by Rabbi Forhman. They both read it, and more than once. 10 yo kept bringing it to the table, reading out loud and discussing various points.3 yo stayed up for the seder, saw my husband put on his kittel and asked: "Why are you doing that?" "Thank you for fulfilling my obligation, So you could ask." He was not amused, but he was explained more about coming out of Egypt. And he even recited a nice part of Ma Nishtana. I know he was taught it in school, but I also have a Pesach CD that he kept asking me to put in, which contains it.

10 yo showed brotherly love
by putting up with 3 yo
messing up his experiment
(you need someone
of similar height for it to work)
at the science museum

On Chol HaMoed, I took kids places, hoping to rally just a bit. On Monday we went to the Museum of Natural History.

Kings of the rock at Noah's Ark

On Tuesday we visited an animal sanctuary with another homeschooling  family. The kids all had someone their own age to interact with, so the boys were able to go at their pace, and I could keep up with the littles.

Wednesday was the last day of coop classes followed by park day. I saw the boys' presentation from Lego Robotics class and missed the Bridges class one due to the littles being in toddler room. We brought out miracle bars to share. 12 walked around, advertising how good they are and sharing his insights about Pesach. I thought we will leave early enough for the babies to nap at home, but they both could not sleep. So, on the spur of the moment, I grabbed the willing kids and went to Botanical Gardens to sneak a peek at Chihuly exhibition. Our membership was running out and it did not officially open till after Pesach, but the glass was already installed. The kids loved running around finding the artwork: "There is a Chihuly!" And Thursday I went to taeknowdo with the boys followed by a cooking marathon for the last days.

Boys are presenting their robot

Now Yom Tov is over, the kitchen is back to chametz, laundry is churning from mounds of dirty into mounds of clean, and we bought our chametz. I am looking forward to Pesach when the youngest is 3. In the meanwhile, I will keep on trying to do what I can, and ignore the over-optimistic accounts of how easy it is to make Pesach.

Chihuly in the Botanical Garden

pre-pesach jitters

Pesach is coming.

I don't want to read about fifty gazillion amazing things I can do with matzah.
I don't want to read about twenty desserts that taste like chametz.
I don't want another handy Pesach checklist.
I don't want to read about your panic over dirt in the bottom of your fridge which your OCD will not let you pass over.
I don't want to read about your emergency of a cleaning lady or a babysitter quitting. I definitely do not want to read how stressed you are over having your kids home for a whopping three days.

As we get closer, I do not want to see cute ideas for seder set-up. I don't want to see a charoset bar. Charoset was supposed to symbolize clay, the back-breaking labor of the Jews. There is a good reason why we had to leave Egypt and materialistic slavery behind. I am not planning on slaving over charoset.

I do not want to see your seder set-up unless:
1.I am invited to the said seder.
2. Your kids set the table up, with all the imperfections and cuteness, and you JUST LEFT IT as they set it.

Every year I tell myself not to stress over Pesach, and every year I find myself stressing. I have been in tears just about every night last week. Last night, to top it all off, 2 yo managed to march downstairs, into Pesach kitchen, with a cup full of chametz cereal. We do not allow food downstairs, keeping it chametz-free year-round. We usually keep the gate closed, but I guess it was left open with all the cooking and running back and forth, He used the opportunity. I lost it. I yelled at all the kids to get into the pajamas NOW, and get into bed. I did not tuck anyone in (except for putting 2 yo into his crib). Then I sat on the couch and cried.

Pesach is supposed to be about freedom, and we are supposed to free ourselves from expectations. We are supposed to let go, be ready to shift perspective. Every year I beat myself up for not reading up more about the seder, for not feeling ready to tell the story of Yetziat Mitzraim, for not engaging the kids enough, for stressing too much about food and cleaning, and not enough about what is really important.

Every year I want to make something memorable for the kids, and every year it ends up being a last minute project, not completed because I am out of time and steam. This year, I sat at the computer and typed up a bunch of questions pertaining to the seder. Most of them are open-ended, not halachic, in hope of engaging even my younger kids. I printed them, cut the out, and folded each piece of paper. I' m hoping to place them in the middle of the seder table to spark some discussion. I'm also planning on serving a lot of veggies for karpas, to keep them munching. Finally, I made candied nuts, to be given out to kids for good questions and good answers. That is straight from the Gemara. The wine was supposed to engage the adults, the treats were supposed to engage the children.

Every year I hope it will be different.
Every year I hope to get more learning done with the kids, so that they come to the seder prepared.
Every year it ends up being the same: short of my expectations, stressful, sometimes meaningless.

My boys love Pesach because of their birthdays. They love the season. They love plotting how to steal the afikoman and where to hide it. (We had a memorable hiding spot many years ago behind the garbage can in the bathroom). I doubt they love the stress that I am feeling. I don't want them to remember the stress, I want them to remember the excitement and the joy. I don't want them to remember the food. I don't want them to dread the food, either, but it should not be the focus.

I am still learning how to balance it all: be happy in cooking and cleaning, be learned enough to know what to clean, be relaxed enough so that I am available to the children, and get it all done on time.

If we all had to leave our current materialistic Egypt, would we be able to? Or would we be too attached to the way we always do things to let go?

since we've been gone

Today ended up being first "regular" school day since our NY trip. The boys resisted, especially the oldest. As far as academics go, we went over hagaddah, reading parts out loud ( easy when you have been listening to Pesach songs AND looking over hagaddahs laying around, especially the comic one from NY). Both boys did Rosetta Stone.

5 yo did math, more place value through hundreds. 7 yo did telling time to a minute.

5 yo did handwriting both in English and Hebrew. He also asked for reading which was not on the list, so he read to me and I read to him. He was a bit worried about Llama, but I said that I would write half and he wrote the other half.

7 yo got stuck on spelling, he got "witch" wrong again, followed by "neighbor" and "eight". By that point, he was in tears, spelling is not his subject, he should be doing level A ( he's on D). Moreover, when I was telling how to spell words correctly, he wrote them wrong and then was frustrated to rewrite them. As a review, I asked him to type them on the computer and illustrate with clip art--that he really likes.

Then we got to math, which was about telling time to the minute. I got another earful how math is not his subject either, science is. I told him that if he puts in effort, that's what counts, not just what he naturally has talent in. I don't think he believed me.

Then he balked at Lashon HaTorah. I asked to do one page, he sat there, then asked to do half a page. Finally he did that.

At some point, he said that he wants to be uneducated, like Anglo-Saxons. I told him that those did not do so well. He said, that's because the Vikings got them, and they are not around any more, so he's safe. I tried hard not to smile, thinking how much knowledge is required to make all of those uneducated statements.

I have been toying with unschooling idea. I think my unschooling is more like very relaxed schooling, where kids can read a lot of whatever they choose, beg others to play educational games with them, listen to books on tape and ask the meaning of unfamiliar words, retell stories that they heard, make maps of empires, spontaneously sew afikomen bags, go to museums... in case you are wondering what we did for the past week's hiatus, this is what our learning has been like.

On the drive back from NY, 7 yo asked me why people in Israel say "Goal Yisrael" in Shemone Esre, aren't they not in galut any more? That led to a discussion of what is galut, why we are in galut, how do we get out of galut. These little spontaneous discussions cannot be coming from above, they have to come because the children want to know.