PTSD as I know it

It's time for the post-pesach exodus, back to the real world. I'm still straddling the hecticity of a two week yom tov and the normal life that should follow. There are many reasons why I'm still traumatized from this year's holiday, but here are just a few that will take a lot more than a good night's sleep to get over:

• First a confession: I ate Quinoa this pesach and let me tell you, it was good. Why all the guilt you ask? Pesach on my side of town is an all out neurosis-fest, with everyone outdoing the other on what they won't eat or do. Unpeeled foods are out of the question, so that excludes everything that is not peel-able, or just about everything besides for firm, preferably large vegetables. You think tomatoes are a job to peel... try black pepper. Uh huh, I didn't think so… Most people here also don't use any processed or prepared foods except wine, matza and pure olive oil. I take that back, many people actually don't use oil, only schmaltz (melted chicken fat), and some even press their own wine. Until I make Pesach in my own home, I'm at the mercy of my host's chumras. So when I was served a steaming dish of quinoa with sautéed vegetables that included taboo varieties like celery (gasp) and leek (double gasp), believe me I wasn't complaining. I'm just waiting for the rabbanim to unanimously outlaw quinoa before next year's pesach. It'll be chashash kitniyos I bet... anything so long as nice law abiding yiddelach have even less edible options on pesach.

• Since my heresy is in the open, I may as well continue. This pesach I finally uncovered the mystery of the fish bumper stickers that I've begun noticing on so many cars. Most have either a cross for an eye or some Christian name for god inscribed inside the body space, but I've come across a few that said gefilteh, so go figure. Anyway, I was reading the da Vinci Code (standard fare for pesach reading, lol) and though the literary quality is really poor, it's full of fascinating information on the history and legend of Christianity--things that I'd probably never otherwise encounter. Of practical importance was the explanation that the two millennia A.D. are the age of Pisces who's sign is a fish, which explains the fishy Christian car accessories that adorn my neighborhood parking lots. Apparently somebody thinks it's hilarious to parody that with gefilteh... whatever, but this brings me to the next point:

• Going to shul and hanging out with the young'uns this pesach, I've discovered that the new choice cuss among hip young frummies is Geezus. Yes, as in Jesus. Believe me, I'm no prude, and I don't carry a list of words that I can't say, such as yena machla or yushki, but I consider this pretty darn scandalous. Invoking any name in times of distress is no less than the informal equivilant of prayer, be it crying mommy or Hashem yisborach or, lehavdil, Jesus. Who are you kidding? You may as well say three hail Mary’s and then insert complaint/request. A close second, in terms of phrases I've heard that should not be repeated, would be 'holy mother of G-d'. Enough said.

• Speaking of strange use of names over Pesach, scientologist Tom Cruise and macrobiyogalogist Gwenyth Paltrow named their newborn daughters straight out of a Sholom Aliechem novel (although different translations). If baby Moses and baby Suri can be gentiles then maybe I'm wrong and Jesus can be heimish. Considering his history, it isn't far fetched at all, but I'll leave that for the next overrated Dan Brown novel. In the same vein, I'd like to publicly thank Brooke Shields for naming her baby the very neutral Grier (oy, nebach).

• Another eye opening experience I had this chol hamoed was watching the very effective propaganda film, Supersize Me. You all know the premise--a guy eats three meals at McDonalds for a month and documents how his liver starts to fail, his heart becomes weak and blood pressure soars, his mood goes nuts, he becomes addicted, overweight and generally McIll. If he had tried the same experiment in Kosher Delight, he would probably have gotten the same results in a week. The eye opener was this: soft drinks are the greatest evil of all when it comes to eating healthy. It reminded me of a really old post over at Aidel Maidel's where she said she never gave her kids apple juice because all the sugar made them nuts. Kiddie crack, she called it; what a perfect description. Second confession of the night, Coke is this mommy's crack (to think how much damage has already been done), but since watching Supersize Me I vow, beli neder, to give up all soda completely. Who would guess that I'd be such a great candidate for mind control? I'm totally convinced! This movie was on cable and I stumbled on it accidentally. Just imagine what would have happened if they'd been showing something by Michael Moore instead? I shudder to think.

• Speaking of addiction, when pesach was over I had a the hugest craving not for chametz but for french fries! What is wrong with me?!?

• And finally, the great disillusionment that has been tormenting me in the last few weeks and has only been exacerbated by the travel and lack of routine that comes with yom tov: (In small font for non-parents) Diaper training does not in any way signal parental freedom. I honestly thought that training my daughter to use the toilet young would free me from the tiresome and smelly diaper changing routine that I'd been enduring and transfer that responsibility to the culprit—my daughter. What was I thinking? It turns out that keeping a kid in diapers is far easier to manage, considering that the caretaker can choose when to change the dirty diaper and if it's possible to wait a short while for a more convenient moment to arise. With toilet use comes the inevitable moment of truth, "mommy, I need to make," which translates as drop everything and run for the nearest toilet or deal with a much nastier mess than any diaper could present. The complicating factor is that kids have a hard time pacing their bodily functions so they need to go very often!!! The fact that they "need to make" at the most inoppertune times, i.e. while driving down a highway or during birchat cohanim, really doesn't inhibit them at all. And unlike the diaper wearing child, you can't postpone the changing for even a minute... or else. Ironically, diaper training has been harder on me than on my toddler; I'm ready to stick her back in diapers in a second.

And now y'all know why I’ve been so reluctant to resurface—I still have a bit of recuperating to do. While I work out my issues, feel free to share your pesach traumas. Misery loves company, you know ;)