Finding the "Yes" on Passover

This week is Passover. It started with the first seder last Friday evening and ends this Saturday after sundown. In the meantime, we, as Jews, are prohibited from eating any kind of leavened bread, along with other restrictions, which is both more complicated and simpler than it sounds.

It does mean a huge disruption to our routine, a change in the way we handle and plan meals, and me saying "no" to many requests for various snacks and favorite dinners.

My kids' spring break from school happens to coincide exactly with Passover this year, which is quite rare. There is often some overlap, but to have the entire holiday off from school is a luxury. Removing the need to pack school lunches from the already complicated week surely helps.

My husband and I want our kids to form happy memories associated with Passover. Rather than dreading it every year because they can't have pasta, rice, sandwiches, peanut butter, and pancakes, we want them to look forward to macaroons, special desserts, the excitement of the seder meals, and other treats.

But the reality is that kids are far more likely to remember the nos than the yeses. They won't remember that we gave them dessert every night and sometimes after lunch, too. They won't remember that we handed out macaroons randomly throughout the day and had bottles of Dr. Brown's Cream Soda on the table at dinner.

What they'll remember is that they couldn't have chips. They couldn't go out to eat. They couldn't have their hot dog in a bun or their meatballs over spaghetti. There's no pizza, no mac and cheese, and we're trying to make them eat way more vegetables than we normally do (because there's nothing else to eat!). And the only vegetables they're guaranteed to eat, peas and corn, are prohibited on Passover.

It's only a week (well, eight days, really). As adults, we know how short a week really is. We're adaptable. We understand the "why" and the "how." We can get creative. We know how hard we're working to provide a fun and interesting time for the kids, to provide good food and meet their needs. But to them, it feels like all we're doing is saying no.

For the first few days, we thought we could manage on just meat, potatoes, and eggs, but it quickly became clear to me that the kids needed something else. They needed some kind of snacky, non-healthy treat. I took them to a supermarket with a decent-sized kosher-for-Passover selection (45 minutes from our house), and we picked out some treats and easy lunch items to ease the "no" aspect. We had chicken franks for lunch today, to their delight. I also found fish sticks that are potato-crusted instead of breaded, which will be great for lunch tomorrow. We got kosher-for-Passover pasta, which is made from tapioca and potato starch and was surprisingly pasta-like in both taste and texture. I bought turkey lunch meat and some packaged snack items. I came home with much happier kids.

Parenting is always a delicate balance of meeting needs, acknowledging wants, and trying to explain that sometimes things are just the way they are. It's looking for opportunities to say Yes when it feels like all you do is say No. It's teaching and learning, giving and taking. None of this is more clear than on Passover.

I'm So Happy My Kids Love Summer Camp

When I was a kid, I had to go to summer camp. Not being a very outdoorsy or athletic child, I generally hated camp. I didn't like swimming, particularly. I didn't like being outside all day. I didn't like a lot of the group activities we did. I have some good memories, like archery and acting electives, some of the art projects, things like that. But, generally, traditional summer camps and I were not a good match.

There was one year when I attended a youth theater camp. I loved that. I really enjoyed learning about acting and directing a play. I couldn't be in the play because we were leaving camp the day before the performance, but they assigned me the role of Assistant Director. I had a blast. It was indoors and interesting for me, and I was so relieved not to be forced to spend the day in the scorching sun running around and doing crazy team activities I didn't like.

So when my son got old enough to attend summer camp, I had to make a decision. "Make" him go to camp to get the experience, or "save" him from the hell that is summer camp (to me)?

My rabbi and his wife had a small but energetic summer camp that they ran through the synagogue. My son already had quite a few friends in that camp, I was close with the rabbi's wife and trusted her, and they made the camp sound very exciting. They took trips twice a week, went swimming, did lots of different types of activities, and kept the kids very, very busy all day. It sounded like something I would exactly hate, but when I told my son about it, he was excited. He wanted to go. So I signed him up.

He had a blast, and is now attending for a third summer. His younger brother is attending fort he first time this year, and was equally excited. I'm only sending them for a week this summer, and in past years he went for two weeks, but it's a great way to break up the school vacation and give them a new experience.

A bonus to all of it is that it's a Jewish camp, so they are spending the day with Jewish friends, and there is a Jewish element to everything they do. They say a blessing over the food they eat, they learn about Shabbat, they sing Jewish songs, and they foster a love of Judaism. This extra bit is what really sold me, because my kids go to a regular public school, so this is a great boost to their Jewish lives and sense of self.

My kids came back from their first and second days of camp bubbling over with excitement, both for the activities they'd done that day and for those planned for later in the week. The five-year-old was anxious to share his bunk cheer, and the seven-year-old had a whole narrative about what had happened at the pool. They can't wait to go in the morning and are happily exhausted on the drive home.

If my kids ever came to me and said they hated camp, I wouldn't make them go, or I would try to find some other activity or camp that would speak more to their interests. I don't need childcare, although it's nice for them to be able to get out of the house and be with other people besides boring Mommy all day, and I don't want them to grow up resenting those weeks spent in the hot sun. But, conversely, since they do love it, I will make the effort to have them attend every year, so they can grow up with this fond memory and a healthy family tradition.

It's important for us to remember, as parents, that our kids are not us. They will like some things we don't, and they will dislike some things we like. We want to share our positive experiences with them and protect them from negative ones. But my negative experience may not be so for them. And something I loved as a kid may not interest them.

My kids are like me in a lot of ways, but they are also unlike me in many. They are exuberant, friendly, outgoing, and engaging little boys, compared to the shy, introverted, slow-to-warm, timid little girl I was. They like to be in the thick of things, and I liked to be a wallflower. They like new experiences, and I liked the familiar and routine. I want to honor the people they are and help them continue to extend those boundaries and enrich their world.

Being Jewish in December

I took GI to the doctor today, dragging SB along for the ride. The doctor was trying to engage SB by asking him if he's made his list for Santa yet. SB didn't seem to know what the doctor was asking, but he also didn't know what to say in response. I quickly jumped in and told the doctor that SB's birthday is coming up, which prompted the doctor, who apparently also has a December birthday, to commiserate about getting only half the gifts, because you get combined birthday and Christmas gifts. Poor SB was still confused, especially when the doctor asked SB when his birthday is, and SB proudly exclaimed that it's today. GI was unhappy (to put it mildly) about his doctor's visit, and I really just wanted to nurse the poor guy and get him home, so I wasn't in the mood to launch into an explanation about how we're Jewish, don't celebrate Christmas, and that today is SB's birthday on the Hebrew calendar, which we also celebrate, even though his English birthday isn't for another two weeks. I let poor SB be bewildered and the doctor think he was just absorbed in playing a game on the phone (which he was).

If NJ had been there, he would have proudly explained everything to the doctor. He's open that way. I guess as an adult, I've learned to be a little cautious about advertising our differences, sometimes because I'm just not in the mood for explanations of explanations, and other times because I just don't feel like being different. It's not fear, exactly, just burn-out. I've spent my life explaining to others about my religion and practice, and now I just want to do what I do and not open up the discussion constantly. I also didn't want the doctor to be embarrassed about having asked.

It's not that I don't want to educate, and it's certainly not that I don't want my kids to be proud of their heritage. I have no problem sitting down at an appropriate and convenient time and place and explaining anything anyone wants to know. It's mainly fatigue that prevents such discussion from happening more often.

I thought about what NJ would have done. "We don't celebrate Christmas," he would have said, just informing, not offensively at all. "We celebrate Hannukah." And as for the birthday question, "Today's his Hebrew birthday. His English birthday is on the 17th." NJ doesn't realize that not everybody understands when he pipes up with information like that. And he doesn't care. He's proud of who he is, of having the knowledge that he has, and of being different.

The other day, in the mall, we went past the area set up for pictures with Santa. A kindly-looking Santa, sitting in his chair with no children to pose with, waved merrily to SB and GI. I could see the wheels turning in SB's head. "Huh?" he was probably thinking. He knows of Santa Claus. He'll point out a display and say, "That's Santa Claus!" But I don't think he really knows who Santa is, or what the significance is for children who do celebrate Christmas. Indeed, last year, NJ proudly came home from kindergarten and informed us that he had told his friends that Santa isn't real. Fortunately, none of his friends' parents called to complain! And there was the memorable year in which a three-year-old NJ pointed excitedly to a big Santa decoration in Costco and exclaimed, "There's Samantha!" SB, since he's not even in a daycare or preschool setting, has not been exposed to Christmas very much at all, except for the decorations all over the place, so I don't know what he thinks "Christmas" is all about.

I don't feel that my kids are "missing out" on anything by not celebrating Christmas. For one thing, it's hard to "miss" something you've never experienced. We don't do a "Hannukah bush," or put up lights or decorations that mimic those we see throughout our neighborhood. Those don't have anything to do with Hannukah and are just a way to make the Jewish kids feel less left out. Instead, I hope that by instilling Jewish values in them year-round, and celebrating Jewish holidays with them year-round, they'll be proud and happy to be Jewish. They had a great time building and decorating a Sukkah in October, celebrating the Passover seder, and dancing with the Torah on Simchat Torah, and they will love the simple beauty of lighting the Hannukah menorah. If one is Jewish all year round, and not just in December, then there is plenty of celebrating to be done. And, hey, who wouldn't want to celebrate two birthdays every year?

I still worry about what will happen as my children mature and move away from my sphere of influence. I do hope that instilling a love of Judaism and Jewish practice in them when they are young will carry them forward. I hope NJ's enthusiasm will never wane. I hope that SB won't lose that innocence. I hope I can take a lesson from NJ in unashamedly and unabashedly speaking up when someone asks if Santa is coming to our house, or if we have our tree yet.

For more thoughts on the winter holidays, I wrote this piece on the Christmas/Hannukah issue a couple of years ago in a now-defunct blog. I also wrote this one about celebrating Shabbat dinner on Christmas Eve that same year.