Once again we’ve survived living without Hametz for an unbearable week, or at least to hear my kids talk that is what just happened. I don’t see the big deal, but of course I love macaroons and the only time they show up in our pantry are during Pesach. Strangely macaroons are one of the only Pesach supplies that we always run out of early.
The community Seder was interesting. Apparently the other Conservative shul in town decided not to have one and many of our members decided not to attend ours. Net result was that when we arrived probably 65-70% of the attendees were from the other shul or non-affiliated. Without doubt the part of the evening I enjoyed least was OPC—Other People’s Children. Granted I grew up in a very strict home where punishment was quick and severe for any disruptive behaviour in public and you were removed from the situation at the first sign of disruption to be “realigned”. I fully understand that we live in a kinder gentler world now, and kids are no longer soundly beaten for just doing what kids do, but there has to be a limit. And to make matters worse, it only takes one wild child to set off all of them. They seem to feed off each other’s energy and the destructive force they can deliver is almost Biblical in nature. I’m not asking people to beat their kids (as a once abused child myself, I didn’t care for it then or now) but I am asking that people do more than stand across the room, hands at their side in a calm voice saying:
“Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains, daddy doesn’t want to have to replace another set,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains...”
And repeating this for what seemed to be fifteen minutes. Obviously what you are doing is not working, please try something else.
But we survived, more or less, and moved on. Did I mention I love macaroons? I do, it’s my peaceful place.
Son One shocked me after the Seder by informing me he would be getting up early the next morning and going with me to services. I say I was shocked primarily because Son One is NOT a morning person and generally has to be dragged out of bed every morning for school or synagogue. But he was up, showered and dressed before I was and actually participated in services. I was very proud of him as he had the honor to return the Second Torah to the Ark. I was then shocked even more when he did the same thing again for the second day of services and this time was honored by removing the first Torah from the Ark and leading the procession. Such nachas from one who at times is such a hard-headed son.
Son Two had his birthday Sunday, which is always interesting. We always try to have his birthday early so he can have cake but this year we had a lovely hametz free chocolate cake that tasted surprisingly good. Much better than the ones I’ve had in the past. I spent most of the day trying to find a specific video game for him and when I didn’t find it had to deal with the fact that I’m one of the worst fathers in the history of fatherhood. Yeah, right. My grandmother always told us that you “pay for your raising” and explained that all the torment you provide your parents while growing up will be returned to you via your own children. Son Two’s kids and I will someday have a long talk about this.
Did I mention macaroons?
The community Seder was interesting. Apparently the other Conservative shul in town decided not to have one and many of our members decided not to attend ours. Net result was that when we arrived probably 65-70% of the attendees were from the other shul or non-affiliated. Without doubt the part of the evening I enjoyed least was OPC—Other People’s Children. Granted I grew up in a very strict home where punishment was quick and severe for any disruptive behaviour in public and you were removed from the situation at the first sign of disruption to be “realigned”. I fully understand that we live in a kinder gentler world now, and kids are no longer soundly beaten for just doing what kids do, but there has to be a limit. And to make matters worse, it only takes one wild child to set off all of them. They seem to feed off each other’s energy and the destructive force they can deliver is almost Biblical in nature. I’m not asking people to beat their kids (as a once abused child myself, I didn’t care for it then or now) but I am asking that people do more than stand across the room, hands at their side in a calm voice saying:
“Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains, daddy doesn’t want to have to replace another set,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains,"
"Sarah, stop pulling the curtains...”
And repeating this for what seemed to be fifteen minutes. Obviously what you are doing is not working, please try something else.
But we survived, more or less, and moved on. Did I mention I love macaroons? I do, it’s my peaceful place.
Son One shocked me after the Seder by informing me he would be getting up early the next morning and going with me to services. I say I was shocked primarily because Son One is NOT a morning person and generally has to be dragged out of bed every morning for school or synagogue. But he was up, showered and dressed before I was and actually participated in services. I was very proud of him as he had the honor to return the Second Torah to the Ark. I was then shocked even more when he did the same thing again for the second day of services and this time was honored by removing the first Torah from the Ark and leading the procession. Such nachas from one who at times is such a hard-headed son.
Son Two had his birthday Sunday, which is always interesting. We always try to have his birthday early so he can have cake but this year we had a lovely hametz free chocolate cake that tasted surprisingly good. Much better than the ones I’ve had in the past. I spent most of the day trying to find a specific video game for him and when I didn’t find it had to deal with the fact that I’m one of the worst fathers in the history of fatherhood. Yeah, right. My grandmother always told us that you “pay for your raising” and explained that all the torment you provide your parents while growing up will be returned to you via your own children. Son Two’s kids and I will someday have a long talk about this.
Did I mention macaroons?
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