Pesach Preparedness

There is no way to avoid it. It's coming.

I used to love it.  Not the cleaning, no one loves the cleaning! Pesach is such a special time. The first hints of Spring. The family time. The nostalgic pots, pans and dishes.  The traditional recipes. I remember the Pesachim of my childhood and can even smell it. What was that smell?  Melmac?

It is a holiday that is so rich in tradition and family roots. Do you eat Gebrokts? (Yes, B"H) How is your Seder run? How late does it go? What kind of Maror do you use? What is your Charoset recipe? (Saba's is awesome.) How do you keep the kids engaged?

Each year we seem to add something new, or something we've done for years becomes set tradition. AM and UM added a great Maggid tradition that I hope we keep.

Usually, Pesach sneaks up on me. Not this year.

This year I have more time then ever before to prepare.

But its not the cleaning, scrubbing, and kashering that I am obsessed with. AM in her usual awesomeness has taken on all the cooking.  We are only sleeping in our house. I'm closing up the kitchen.

We still have to clean.  The kids' rooms, my room, the playroom are all being tackled.  But considering the kids have already been home for days, we should have no problem getting it done. Also, Savta and Saba are helping. A lot.

The preparation this year is all in my head.

Trying to move past last year's Pesach that was filled with fear, uncertainty, and a certain resolve that life would never be the same. Trip'n Daddy was very sick, we were new Olim, and we had no idea what was to come.

Now, the worst has happened and we've survived. But like all those Pesachim of the past, last year's has become part of our family's collective memory. I want so desperately for it to be one that fades. Let that fear and pain not become associative for the Trips.

I want their images of Pesach to be of the joy of cherut. Of celebrating with cousins. Of school vacation in the most amazing country in the world.

Let the sweetness of their 4 cups of grape juice overpower the bowls of saltwater tears we've shed this year.