C’mon, there had to be a follow-up.

Would love to say that last night went off without a hitch, but that just doesn’t happen.

First of all, this happened…


My mom on the left, Aunt Myra on the right. Middle sister Sharon not pictured.

I have no idea if this was on purpose or by accident, but either is possible. And if Aunt Sharon was there, make no mistake she would have been dressed the same too.  This shit happens all the time. My mom is the baby, yet she has completely taken control.  Aunt Myra and Aunt Sharon buy whatever she tells them.  So in any case, there was a Passover uniform that nobody told me about.

Then we start scrambling to get stuff in the tiny oven to heat up.  I know I mentioned my mom doesn’t cook and part of the reason might be because she has an oven that is made for hobbits.

tiny oven

World’s Smallest Oven

I actually think the microwave is bigger.  We removed racks, put them back in and removed them about 36 times.  My mother warning us each time how hot it was and to be careful.  We finally got everything in using the one pair of pot holders she has (I know I exaggerate a lot with numbers but this is true.  The woman has one pair of pot holders.  She doesn’t like clutter).  We sat down to relax and wait for the delicious food.

About 30 mins later, I get up to check the food.  I open the oven door.


“Mom, it’s really not hot.  I think you need to crank it up.”

She comes over to assess the situation a little more closely and that’s when I hear…


This should be where I tell you that we all looked at each other in disbelief, but nope. Totally par for the course.

Then, my mom starts taking out Ava’s toys to entertain her.  Among them is this Globe.

The Globe

The Globe

My mother has been trying to sell Ava this effing globe for about 2 years.  She chases her around the house with it. “Ava, I think you’re ready for Geography, look how cool this is!?”  She cannot give up on The Globe.  Ava is not interested.

She’s persistent though.  I don’t think we’ve seen the last of it.

So, after 6 hours the food is ready and we finally eat.  Everything was delicious.  The chaos was precise.  And my mom only yelled “Don’t drop any food on the floor, I don’t want a dead dog on Pesach!” a handful of times.

It only took an hour to leave as we all were herded out like cattle for the valet line.  Ava was sleeping over but wanted to walk me down.  My mom saw with her own eyes me holding my child’s hand walking to the elevator.  Yet, it took her at least 20 minutes to come out herself. Why? Because she was searching the 2 bedroom condo for my child.  Even after I called the house from my cell phone asking where the hell she was, hearing her yell “Where’s Ava?”, and Bob and my cousins, and even Piglet the dog tell her “She’s waiting at the elevator with Rachel.”  The Yiddish word to describe my mother’s state of mind was – “Famished”. Not to be confused with the word famished meaning hunger, although I’m sure that’s relevant too.  Short “a” and emphasis on the “mished” syllable.  Kind of means frazzled.


Finally we could all go home, everyone’s location was accounted for, and for a moment, Aunt Myra considered leaving Uncle Billy on the balcony to sleep off his food coma.


This is a common sight at family functions.