Al ha'nissim

Okay, that's usually associated with Chanuka, not Pesach, but for this year, it fits. We are very very grateful for the miracle that has been this Pesach.

The Thursday night before last, as I've mentioned, a midwife who wasn't mine sprung me from bedrest--after I'd had a night of contractions (which, obviously, stopped short of real labor). On Tuesday I went in for an appointment, and (my own) midwife had a look and said, "Well, those contractions did something." She advised me to put Pesach food in my hospital bag. She advised me of this fairly strongly. And she also suggested that whatever I'd been doing that weekend, I desist, unless I really wanted a baby to show up in the next few days.

What I'd been doing, naturally, was climbing around on my kitchen counters with shelf paper, clearing out chametz, relocating kitniyos and dishes, and spiriting the (chametzdik) Play-Doh out of the kitchen without Barak noticing. (He did not notice the process of disappearance, but did notice the absence, moping around the kitchen asking hopefully, "Doh-doh? Doh-doh? Doh-doh yeah?")

The sudden re-curtailment of activity meant that my devious plan of having everything completely done by Wednesday night and not eating matza and cheese for seders was rudely derailed. I had a kosher l'Pesach kitchen--with absolutely no cooked food. At least the kitchen was clean, though--the whole house had been cleaned, the kitchen had been "turned over" with the help of Marika neni and a friend's teenage daughter, and everything was sparkly. Wonderful in and of itself, yes, but not fully adequate to three days of yom tov.

Enter two of my husband's fellow teachers, who came to the rescue by turning up at our house a few hours before licht with what they said was a meal each, but was actually enough to keep us well and happily fed for all three days of yom tov. Oh, and there are still three unopened foil pans of food in the freezer. The largesse even included everything we needed for the seder plate, and another teacher brought by four pounds of shmura matza (which, added to the four pounds we already had, produced quite the matza glut. Anyone short a few pounds of hand shmura? Let us know.) It was amazing. I just didn't know what to say, beyond "thank you," over and over again.

On Wednesday, I found myself in the joyous position of lighting candles in a shiny clean house, with delicious food that I had not cooked in the oven AND the fridge AND the freezer, everybody bathed and dressed, all the laundry done, the matzo and grape juice and charoses and maror and haggadahs and everything else just where they were supposed to be. Oh, and I wasn't in labor. It was good. It was beyond good.

And so we all had a good chag, and I think Barak had fun. One of the challenges of observant Jewish parenting is raising children who not only put up with, but enjoy and look forward to, Shabbos and yom tov (holidays). A two-day yom tov in conjunction with Shabbos can mean three days of no cars, no lights, no shopping, no TV, no drawing or painting, no electronic toys, no a lot of things. You don't want your kids to focus on the "no" part--you want them to focus on the liberating aspect of those nos. So you make sure that Shabbos involves lots of the things that make kids happy--parental attention, a little extra leniency in what's permitted and not permitted, and the ever-necessary Shabbos treats, consisting of whatever the kid in question likes best. For a not-quite-two-year-old like Barak, Shabbos means lots of one-on-one time with a (relatively) undistracted Imma, visits to the shul playroom, and, of course, the all-time favorites--ice cream at dinner and, during the day, a cookie or two.

Since daylight savings time kicked in and Shabbos dinner became too late for Barak to sit through, we've adjusted our schedule somewhat. Friday night for Barak now goes dinner, bath, pajamas, return to high chair in kitchen; Imma lights candles, and Barak gets a bowl of ice cream before he goes to bed. And not a parsimonious bowl, either--we're talking a good half-cup-size serving, as much as I would have myself. It only comes once a week, and it is probably the highlight of his toddler existence.

So, this past Friday night, he got his kosher l'Pesach ice cream. Shabbos morning, lots of books and attention, then lunch, then nap, then a trip to the park with Abba and Imma. We all walked the four blocks there and back, and Barak went down the spiral slide by himself for the first time (and the second, and the third, and the fourth...) After an hour or so (I sat, Barak played, Abba chased), half a brownie was produced, effectively luring Barak from playground without protest. He asked for more, I told him he could have more at home, and he happily and cooperatively walked the four blocks back, holding both our hands the whole way and waiting patiently while we talked whenever we ran into people we knew. We got home, and all sat in his room playing and reading books until dinnertime; dinner for Barak consisted of matzo with cashew butter, sliced cucumbers and peppers, and a cup of milk. And then I did Barak's favorite bedtime routine, which involves my sitting in his room with my book while he falls asleep with his book--a process that can (and, tonight, did) take up to an hour and a half.

Oh, but it was worth it. Because lying in his crib with his copy of "Is Your Mama A Llama," Barak decided to review the events of the day. Quietly, and thoughtfully, addressing himself mostly to his blanket and the side of his crib. Substantially condensed, it went sort of like this:

"Shabbos. Shabbos. Yeah? Yeah? Shabbos. Yeah. [Pause.] Shabbos. Park. Park. Yeah? Park. Yeah? Park. Walk. Park. Yeah. Yeah. Shabbos. Cookie! Yummy. Cookie yummy cookie yummy. Yeah. Yeah. Park. Shabbos. [Pause.] Shabbos. Shabbos. [Dreamily.] Ikeem!"

I think he's got the association down pretty well. Next post: Barak goes to shul.