I raised and married off nine beautiful children. But now I'm enjoying my empty nest. The year my grandchildren stayed with me the week before Pesach, I snapped.
“Sure, Ruchi.” I braced myself.
“Well,” she began, “it’s like this. My mother-in-law offered to take the three older ones while we move, and she said that maybe …maybe you’d take Avi and Chanala.”
The words were coming out in a rush. “It’s going to be impossible to get the boxes packed and out of the apartment while they’re around, and my mother-in-law said it doesn’t make sense for the kids to be home while we’re in between the apartment and the new house; they’ll just get underfoot and anyway it’s dangerous with the movers around and all the stuff lying around and I won’t be able to finish the packing and get everything put away where it belongs. Just for a few days, from Monday until Thursday. Then we’ll go to my in-laws for Shabbos HaGadol. Do you mind?”
“Of course not, darling,” I heard myself say. I didn’t even think for a second before reciting the words; I was just following the script of the good Jewish mother. What mother would say no when her own daughter asked her to watch her own grandchildren for a few days, even if it was just before Pesach? Especially when my machateineste Shirley was taking the older three and hosting the whole family for Shabbos HaGadol.
So why did I feel blackmailed?
“Thanks so much, Ma,” Ruchi was saying. “Shimon will bring Chanala to you Monday morning. You know her nap schedule, right? And Avi’s bus will drop him off at your corner at about 2:30. You should be outside from 2:15, just in case.”
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