Selfmademom calls them the Hellidays, and I think she may be onto something.
I've always felt that one of the perks of being Jewish is getting to opt out of the insanity that is the run-up to Christmas. Sure, I'll send out some holiday cards, buy Chanukah presents for my nearest and dearest (I keep the list very short) and light the old menorah, but I get a giant star-of-David-shaped pass when it comes to hauling and trimming a Christmas tree, installing an electric Santa on my roof or assembling gingerbread houses for all the shut-ins in the neighborhood.
But still. Having kids does up the ante. Instead of just lighting the candles at home, I felt like I should take the girls to the Chanukah family service at Temple. After Baby A's bedtime. By myself. (Josh been at a concert every night this week.) What was I thinking?
Today we attended the holiday party at Z's Montessori school and our Chavurah's Chanukah party, where I ate way too many latkes. I volunteered to make cookies for both which meant three hours of my day was dedicated to rolling, cutting and glazing six dozen menorah, dreidel, star and hay-shaped sugar cookies. With Z "helping" (read: aggressively dumping blue sugar crystals, breaking the tops off of the dreidels and asking if she could eat more dough).
Tomorrow we've got two kiddie birthday parties, and next weekend there are two more. Is it just me, or are there a lot of December birthdays? (Mom and Beth, if you're reading this, happy birthday to you, too!)
