Yom Kippur: A Jewish Mother’s Tale
The Jewish holidays are upon us and in addition to the gossiping, the matchmaking, cheek pinching, the fasting and oh yea, the atoning and praying, I have to contend with the three “B's”. Let me explain.
Getting my 3-year-old daughter dressed in the morning is normally a challenge. It falls under the “pick your battles” category and if she wants to walk around looking like a circus act, so be it. It’s either that, or I’m hitting the Chardonnay by 9:00 am.
But come the holidays, my parents present me with two very cute outfits for the kids to wear so they can parade them around when we get to synagogue like all of the other proud grandparents.
After about an hour of screaming and crying (me, not her), I get the kids dressed – they look adorable and I look like a homeless person.
My mom has a group of friends who we commonly refer to as “The Barbras” – there are about eight of them with the occasional “Carol” sprinkled in. They all wear their own unique shade of coral lipstick which doesn’t come off after they have kissed you for at least three days. Think Barbra Streisand's character from "Meet the Fockers".
“The Barbras” are all equally obnoxious about parading their grandchildren around before services start and each one is thinking the same exact thing – “mine are the cutest.”
Any Jewish mother worth her salt knows how to make a killer brisket (except for me, of course). And they all have a secret ingredient that they include in their recipe. I’m still waiting for mom to divulge hers to me. Apparently I haven’t proven myself trustworthy enough yet.
At the end of each dinner, my mom send me home with enough leftovers to last a lifetime because she is convinced that we don’t eat properly in my house and that we are all going to get scurvy. <br /><br />
Despite the craziness, the holidays really are the perfect excuse to get the family together and continue some traditions. After all, it’s the only time of the year that I fully get to appreciate the three “B’s”.