This morning when I got up and checked my email, I didn't see any notices of comments on my blogs. I guess that everyone's too busy with Passover cleaning etc to visit. So, what did I do? I visited blogs, something I very rarely get to do. Too rarely considering blogging etiquette.
This is not going to be one of my best Passover cleaning years.
- I hate cleaning, always have. I try to run the house to minimize the spread of the forbidden chametz.
- I'm on antibiotics and feel very down.
- With my father here, I can't ignore him for hours on end, nor can I fill up the hallway with junk.
When I first became religious my parents were very angry with me. This was in the mid-1960's and they had never heard of the phenomena of Jewish kids taking on the mitzvot and traditions their parents (and grandparents) had rejected. Later on, they could mentor others through the trauma, conveniently forgetting the horrors I had suffered, due to their anger.
One trauma for me was the pre-Pesach cleaning.
My mother's kashrut compromise was "two sets of dishes," one for "everyday" and the other for Passover. Yes, two sets of traif, non-kosher, forbidden according to Jewish Law. Over the years I've discovered a few others raised in that sort of home. During the year, not only didn't we separate milk from meat, but shrimp and other forbidden foods were cooked and served in our home.
When it came to a day or so before Passover, the kitchen, and only the kitchen was cleaned, and the dishes, cutlery and pots were switched.
The first Passover after my grand announcement my mother said:
"So, you want to be religious? You clean the oven!"
It was punishment. Yes, tough cleaning was my punishment.
For my mental and physical health I try to keep stress far away, so I do everything not to obsess over cleaning. I've learned to work in tiny doses. Flylady calls them "babysteps." I wish I had learned all this when my kids were little, or best, before they were born.