Fourth Night

This is my first blog post and I'm feeling the pressure. Who am I talking to exactly? The universe. I'm talking to the universe about my toddlers. Okay. Weird, but okay. It sort of makes sense then to start things off with a spiritual, cosmic-type issue. Last night was the fourth night of Hanukkah. For most of the Jewish world it was the fourth night of Hanukkah. In our house, it was the fourth night of something we call Hanukkah/HappyBirthday. It falls somewhere between actual Hanukkah and Festivus for the Restofus, I believe.

I am definitely not a devout Jew - in fact I wouldn't call myself a devout or even practicing any thing - but, having little people running around makes you a softy for traditions and rituals. (My father is a (very, very secular) Jew and I got annoyed this year that my kids were going to be pseudo-Christians by default. Hallmark and department stores are not my first choices for teaching my kids about the holiday season. Plus, I don't want to be an atheist-kids-get-presents-day kind of parent because I do believe in a g-o-d (although there's so much hype and dogma surrounding that word maybe for blog purposes I'll go with higher power (HP)).

Back to the point. I decided we would celebrate Hanukkah. 'We' being my two toddlers and my four-month-old and myself, since my husband only rolled his eyes appropriately heavenward. I looked up the blessings and learned how to light the candles on ehow (LOVE ehow, it makes me feel like there are other Jews out there as clueless as me - actually other people as clueless as me on lots of subjects). I made a Menorah. (Because I live in possibly the least diverse larger city in America and my hunt for an actual Menorah ended in frustration. Of course, it was the day before the first day of candle lighting so my procrastination my have played a role.) I borrowed candles from a more organized friend. After dinner on Tuesday night I was ready. With my eager toddlers wiped down and sitting pretty in their booster seats and the baby propped up on the table, I told a (very short) version of the Hanukkah story, lit the service candle, and said the blessings. As the candles burned prettily, I smiled down at my little cherubs who smiled back up at me and said - in stereo - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!

They had a birthday party back in September which was the highlight of their two short years so far. The singing and candle blowing in particular captured their little imaginations - far more than even the presents. I smiled patiently. No Happy Hanukkah. NO!! MOMMA!! HAPPY!! BIRTHDAY!!! Followed by singing. Followed quickly by demands to blow out the candles. I tried explaining that these candles had to burn themselves out because that was how we honored the miracle of Hanukkah. Demands turned to whining, whining went down hill to screaming and crying. I had a massive Hanukkah revolt on my hands before I knew what hit me. BLOW CANDLES! BLOW CANDLES! We let these burn for Hanukkah. Not working, not nicely, not sternly, not in an exasperated yell that included telling them that these burn because not just your mother but also GOD SAID SO!!

My sane pseudo-Christian husband intervened at this point to suggest that maybe it was time to bring out the Hanukkah cookie with the Hanukkah blowing candle inserted into the top. Ah yes. The Hanukkah cookie with the blowing candle. How could I forget that lovely part of the Festival of Lights. We told them to get ready to blow, wiped off their snotty, red faces and brought out two cookies with a candle stuck in each one. They blew, they smiled, they clapped, they sang happy birthday to every member of our family, to the Macabbees and finally to Hanukkah, they ate cookies. The blessing candles were saved. A new holiday was born.

All the parenting talking heads claim that parents should focus on creating family traditions during the holidays. Well, if that is the important thing, we are right on track. Our family has now celebrated Hanukkah/HappyBirthday for four nights and it is a smashing success. In two weeks, tune in for Christmas, featuring a stocking-filling bunny and a leprachaun tree topper. Kidding. Totally kidding.