Mom’s Passover psychosis seems to be starting early this year. I’m seriously wishing I’d done something intelligent for Passover this year, like I did last year, i.e. leave the country.
Mom has a very annoying habit of coming up with last-minute things that she needs me to do for family holiday gatherings, a tendency which is exacerbated by the fact that she never seems to be able to decide until the last minute when we are going to get together, or sometimes whether we’re going to get together at all. Frequently it’ll be the day before a holiday, and I still won’t know when she wants me to show up or what she wants me to bring, or how many people are coming, which is useful information to have when one is expected to plan, shop for, and cook around half of the meal. Then, when I get frustrated and upset with her, she starts her usual rant about how I’m not observant enough, and don’t I care about my Jewish heritage, and how somehow she manages to make the time to get everything done for holidays…today she called me at work to discuss it, in spite of my repeated requests not to call me at work unless it’s an emergency. Well, apparently Passover is an emergency.
This year she’s apparently decided that I should take next Wednesday off of work to prepare for Passover, so that I can drive 40 miles to the home of a family friend, whom I can’t stand, to spend Seder, deal with the family friend and her even more annoying mother for an entire evening, and then drive 40 miles home, probably arriving around midnight if I’m lucky, just in time to go to sleep and wake up at 6 a.m. to go to work the next day. Nevermind that we only hear from this “friend” when there’s an occasion that involves us buying gifts for her or her daughter; apparently now it’s time to engage in Jewish solidarity. What this really means is that Mom just realized there’s no way in Hell she will be able to get her apartment ready for Seder herself, so she managed to wangle us an invitation elsewhere.
This lack of planning is frequently aggravated when, after making multiple trips to the store, Mom changes her mind about what I’m supposed to bring, or what time I’m supposed to show up (she usually calls the day of the holiday, and decides she wants me there several hours earlier than originally planned, although we have yet to start with the actual substance of the event within two hours of her originally appointed time), or how many people are coming. Frequently I’ll set aside the entire day before the gathering to cook, but somehow I can never get the peace and quiet I need, because Mom feels the need to call me fifteen times during the day. (Her demands can verge on the insane: once, I was post-surgical and on crutches, and she still called as I was leaving the house to ask me to pick something else up at the store for her!) I love to cook, and in fact I look forward to holidays as a time when I can try out new recipes…I’m pretty good at timing kitchen operations so that I can manage to juggle everything I’ve planned to prepare and still make it to Mom’s house at the appointed time.
However, Mom, if you call me when I’m up to my elbows in half-chopped soup ingredients, cake batter, and the half-rolled components for stuffed grape leaves, all of which are dependent on very tight timing, I’m NOT going to drop everything and run out to the store for something you forgot to buy yourself. You live two blocks from the supermarket, but at least 20 minutes each way from me, so if you forgot to buy an ingredient for what you promised to cook, I’m not going to take a minimum of an hour out of my cooking day to run an ingredient over to your house. I planned ahead and shopped for my ingredients ahead of time, so no, I’m not eager to slog through the last-minute holiday crowd (she frequently pulls this stunt on Thanksgiving) to buy another bottle of wine because you’re not sure there’s enough. And no, I’m not going to drop everything and come to your house, on no notice, to do heavy cleaning because you’re the one who wanted to host Seder this year, but couldn’t find the time to clear the crap off your dining room table or organize your disastrous kitchen cabinets or wax the livingroom floor. You are an able-bodied and (usually) intelligent adult, and if you couldn’t have things ready in time, you should have realized that ahead of time and planned accordingly.
Yes, I’m very ambivalent about family holiday gatherings, especially for Jewish holidays. I am indeed proud of my heritage, but I’m not at all sure I believe in God, which makes me feel like a huge hypocrite when I recite the canned blather from the Haggadah. Mom, I hate how you always manage to get into a fight with my sister. I hate how you always manage to find something negative to say about the Middle East situation, and how in recent years it’s generally involved at least one dig about Muslim fundamentalism, which you don’t distinguish from Islam at large.
I never wanted to go to a Seder to begin with, and the more you behave this way, the more I grow to resent, and even to hate holidays, especially Jewish holidays. You’ve simply sucked all the joy out of them, and nothing I say seems to make you understand that. I’m seriously asking my boss to deny any request I might be forced to make for time off next week, if I weren’t convinced you’d sic the ACLU on her.
