Let It Out, Hold It In, and Eat

It is wicked late and I am still working because I am so diligent, and also I didn't really start until ten p.m. Passover passed. I sat at the table and cried so hard I could have parted any color sea you want. Then I drank a lotta Peach Manischevitz. Peaches are my fave food and this stuff was heavenly. When I ran out, I guzzled white wine. Instant sedative.

It is not easy to cry hard at a seder table. You hafta shut up, or shveig, as we say in Yiddish. You cannot make a scene in front of the children. Even if you have made a scene in front of the children before, if your mommy is stoic, then there is some expectation that you should have your shit together, so to speak. And the kids deserve a little happiness.

Let the tears stream down, and be proud that you just bought that waterproof mascara. Look up long enough to see that your beloved sister-in-law, Mabel, is also imitating a crying statue. Notice that your sister, Miss Kitty, is doing fine. Wonder how long that will last. Be so fucking glad that your kids are not right next to you. Follow along with the seder, and be cautious as you look at the Haggadah you made years ago.

Dry up a bit, wipe off your face, eat some parsley in salt water. Realize that you love your husband and consider sleeping with him sometime soon. Keep eating. Eat, eat. The next morning, come downstairs to find that breakfast is over and most of the food is gone from the serving dish. Eat the leftover matzoh brie off of all the kids' plates.