Last week, there was a big Purim celebration at our temple, which sounds like it should be a wonderful thing–and probably is to 99.9% of the Purim-celebrating universe. To me, it was just one more item stacked on top of my Impossible Wednesday. My husband texted me during work that I should take all the kids over there after work: My daughter would love to dress up like Queen Esther, my older son would be there for Hebrew school, anyway, the baby would like the balloons. My reaction was a surly, “Why don’t YOU take them?” (knowing he couldn’t; he works late on Wednesdays) because the last thing I wanted to deal with after a 10-hour day and a teething baby who’d kept me up half the night was a bunch of kids sugared up on hamentashen, running around with crowns on their heads.
So I ran over without the younger kids to pick up my oldest–but he was in the sanctuary participating in a Purim program led by the rabbi, and his teacher did all but physically tie me down to prevent me from removing him at the usual 6:30 p.m. pick up time. “Purim is a wonderful celebration! Come, sit down, join us!”
I’d like to say I sat down discreetly and watched the program with my son–but what I did instead was yank my kid away and explain to his shocked teacher, “I need to go home now. I worked all day, and he has homework, and I have a baby with a 7 p.m. bedtime. Sorry, maybe next year.”
Then, because I hadn’t eaten anything all day and felt like I was about to pass out, puke, or both, I seriously could not restrain myself from shoving an entire apricot hamentashen into my mouth on the way out the door. I am pretty sure the teacher saw this ladylike act, including the buttery crumbs I got all over my wool dress. Not one of my finest moments.
Oh well. I think my husband’s going to have to handle pick-up for the rest of the year!! My son, meanwhile, hasn’t held a grudge against me for making him duck out early. He was just glad I didn’t complain when he told me he was too full from Purim food to eat dinner!