The Tale of a Purim Pooper

I'm a pain in the ass to all of the costume designers with whom I work because I have very strong feelings about the subject. 

-Meryl Streep

When I jumped off a roof in Cannes in a bee costume, I looked ridiculous. But this is my business; I have to humiliate myself. 

-Jerry Seinfeld

The Jews had light and gladness, and joy and honour.

-Esther 8:16

Another Purim bites the dust. While celebrations are still going strong in Jerusalem, I'm just glad the whole thing is behind me.  

In the interests of full disclosure, I am not a Purim fan. I find Purim stressful - terrifying even, which, it seems to me, defeats the purpose of Purim, which, of course, is being joyful at the defeat of terror. 

I am, in fact, a Purim-pooper.

When my kids were little, they would talk about costumes mere minutes after Chanuka ended, (which, in Israel, is logical, because minutes after Succot ends, there are sufganiyot in the stores).

They would discuss, between themselves, which are the most popular cartoon characters, their most favorite cutest animal, which storybook they like the most, and then agree that they would dress up in the most intricate, difficult, and complicated costumes possible, each needing different colored fabric. 

This was, of course, long before the days of Amazon and AliExpress. 

Because I'm a good mother - nay, a GREAT mother - I would make, with my own two hands, the intricate, difficult, and complicated costumes. Whatever they wanted.  A pre-historic parakeet? I woul follow birds around for months waiting for them to molt only to discover bags of fake feathers in a craft shop; an astronaut? I made a helmet out of a garbage bin lid with a flip top; a lady stabbed in her bed at night? I whipped up a modest nightgown and dripped red fool coloring all over it. 

And every time, EVERY SINGLE TIME, at the last minute, after talking about being a dinosaur with two humps and a spiny tail for three solid months, the kid would decide, the night before dress-up day, that a dinosaur is DUMB, and now they have to be a man with two heads, or a chocolate chip cookie.

One year, one kid NEEDED to be Batman. So I made a batman costume with a cape and a face mask and everything. IT WAS AMAZING.

and the kid refused to wear it because the ears flopped a little, and he looked a bit like a large black rabbit, but hey.
20 years later, and I'm still hearing about the floppy Batman ears. 

And year after year, the kids would come home from dress-up day sad and humiliated. "My costume was STUPID. Why didn't you make me a GOOD costume."

 

The boys who got all the attention were the ones who colored their hair blue and had fake tattoos up their arms and looked like they were just released from Alcatraz.

The girls who got all the attention were the ones in store-bought costumes with short skirts (even if they dressed up as a chocolate chip cookie). 

I have, to date, never bought a costume (well, maybe one and it was only after the kid decided the day before that he didn't want to be a pirate, he wanted, NEEDED, to be a space alien, and it was on sale for like five shekels so it doesn't count) and my kids resented me for YEARS. 

My kids are older now, and some have their own kids to worry about. They make or buy from AliExpress their own costumes, and resent Purim all on their own. 

These days, I have a job that pays actual money (not a lot of it, but hey) and one would think that Purim costumes would be behind me now. 

One would think wrong. 

We have dress-up day at work. I hate dress-up day at work much more than I ever hated my kids' dress-up day at school.

Last year, I dressed up as a hippy - with a big black curly wig, and a peace necklace, and the grooviest tights ever seen this side of 1967. 

I was awesome. 

Nobody noticed.

Two years ago, I told everyone I wasn't going to dress up but just wear my regular clothes. I came to work with a tall, black, pointed hat, and a pointy nose, and black clothes, and a black cape, carrying a miniature broom. 

It was HILARIOUS. 

Nobody noticed. 

The women who get all the attention are the ones in purple wigs and mini-mini skirts (with polka-dots so they 'look' like Minnie Mouse), and the guys who get all the attention are the ones who dress up as women in mini-skirts. 

I don't own any mini-skirts.

In addition to failing at costume making, my mishloach manot don't seem to be anything to write home about, either. 

We have friends, way too many of them, who make themed mishloach manot. They gush and they goo over them and point out the meaning of all the objects. "These sesame seed cookies represent the many enemies of the Jews, yet the sweetness of our lives. And this white chocolate bar with hazelnuts reminds us that, though life isn't always smooth, God is watching over us".

They look at my mishloach manot with the hamentashen that is leaking filling all over the open bag of pretzels, and the mini-chocolates left over from Chanuka with a sort of grimace.
Of course, I grimace over sesame-seed cookies and white chocolate also.  What are these people thinking?

On top of all this, there is the stress of the hamentashen themselves. One would think that there could be nothing stressful of those delightful pockets of filled cookies.

One would be wrong.

Imagine thinking you are biting into a chocolate hamentashen and it turns out to be date. The fear is too great. I break open every hamentashen rather than bite into it. I leave bitten and broken hamentashen everywhere I go. If I were to get a mouthful of date, or worse!!!! poppyseed!!!!!!!!!! rather than chocolate or butterscotch, I don't think I would ever recover. I certainly would never trust another hamentashen again, and would probably develop trust issues with all manner of baked goods.

However, I think my greatest burden with Purim is the crushing pressure to have a good time.

Everyone else is like Yay! costumes! Yay! poppyseed hamentashen!! Yay! gifts from and to my friends!!! (don't you just LOVE sesame seed cookies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

This is because it is actually a formal mitzvah to be joyful throughout the whole month in which Purim falls. 

We are commanded to be joyful, despite the floppy ears, and the leaking filling, and the DUMB costumes.   

We are told:
YOU HAVE TO HAVE A GOOD TIME. STOP NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME. ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD TIME YET?

It's wearying. 

I think I need to join Purim-Poopers Anonymous. 

And now!!! On to Pesach. 

Are we having a good time yet?