I remember the first family vacation we joined, shortly after we got married. My in-laws were going to the country for a few weeks, and invited everyone to join them for a few days’ vacation.

“What can I bring? I’m happy to help,” I’d offered.

“Oh, Ruchi, you’re such a doll,” my mother-in-law had gushed. “You’re a brand new kallah, don’t bring a thing. Besides, even I don’t cook ahead of time for these trips. We do it all there. It’s much more relaxed, you’ll see.”

I remembered my kallah teacher’s reminders about different families, different cultures. Boy, was this new family of mine different from how I’d grown up. In my family, we planned everything in advance. Lists and menus and labels and frozen 9x13s with all the food…. Every spoon and peeler and piece of equipment was accounted for.

Here, we showed up at the bungalow to find a frenzy of food prep going on — on Friday. Potatoes were piled high on the table, abandoned while someone drove off to Walmart for a peeler.

“Yoni — oh, Zevi and Ruchi, it’s you,” my mother-in-law came out to greet us in a snood and floury apron. “I would offer you some cake, but it’s not yet in the oven. I think there are some snacks somewhere.”

“Ma, what can we give the kids for lunch?” one of my sisters-in-law asked.

“Did anyone remember to pick up some seltzer and juice for Shabbos?”

“Call Efraim, he’s in Walmart.”

“He’s back from Walmart,” my brother-in-law said, walking through the door brandishing the peeler and some paper plates.

“Oh.” My mother-in-law looked flummoxed. “I guess someone else should do a trip to get the drinks.”

“Why don’t they make one list and do it all at once?” I’d asked Zevi in an undertone. He shrugged like he’d never thought of that.

“It’s no big deal, Walmart isn’t that far,” he said.

But that wasn’t the point.

“Everything comes together in the end,” my mother-in-law said, smiling at me. I wasn’t sure if she’d heard what I said or was just referencing the hectic scene all around us.

But even if everything would come together in the end, why go through all the stress along the way? I wondered.

And besides, it didn’t all come together. Erev Shabbos found us scrambling to borrow tea lights from a neighbor, since someone had forgotten to bring candles for the women to light. We didn’t have time to cook the fish, so we skipped first course. No one had thought to bring a crockpot, so we put up a cholent on the hot plate, and it kind of burned when all the water cooked out before the meal started. “At least we still have schnitzel and salads,” my mother-in-law said cheerfully. “It’s all good.”

All good?

I mean, it was fine, sure it was fine, but it wasn’t… like it could’ve been, had things been planned or coordinated better.

I kept my thoughts to myself, though. This was my new in-law family, after all. I was just going to paste on a smile and not say a word.

Summer was over, Rosh Hashanah was just a couple of weeks away, and with the kids finally getting settled into the new school year, it was time to dive into Yom Tov preparations in earnest.

“Do we know yet where your parents will be? What their plans are?” I asked Zevi.

He looked nonplussed. “Ahh… call them, I guess?”

I called my mother-in-law that night.

“Hi, Ma. I’m just looking at the calendar, trying to make a head start on Yom Tov prep… any idea what your plans are over Succos?”

“Succos?” My mother-in-law laughed. “You’re adorable, Ruchi, I literally haven’t thought about it yet. But of course, you’ll be invited for all the meals.”

Adorable. I gritted my teeth. I knew my mother-in-law didn’t mean badly, but… I took it badly anyway.

“Thanks so much, Ma. I was just thinking, it really depends where you’re staying. The kids can’t walk so far, we won’t necessarily be able to walk back and forth for every meal if you’re not going to be nearby.”

“Hmm. Well, Adina was working on finding us an apartment, I think she had a few options. Near to her, because Mimi wants to move in with us, and so it’s really important to be near enough for Adina to come over, she’ll be literally right after birth….”

My sister-in-law Adina lived around twenty-minute walk away. That would mean….

“On the other hand, if we find a bigger apartment, where Adina can also move in, it could really be anywhere, as long as it’s walking distance for you, of course,” my mother-in-law continued. “Maybe you or Zevi could look into some of the options for us? I’d like to see pictures of the apartment before committing. And someone said the prices often drop right before Succos, when people are more desperate to get a renter. So maybe we should wait a little longer….”

I had a headache already. All I wanted to know was where they’d be staying so I could figure out if we would join my in-laws for all meals, or only some.

But if no one was getting on with making a final decision, I’d have to do the legwork myself.

And I did. I called my sisters-in-law. One of them had heard about a neighbor who was renting out her three-bedroom apartment with a nice-sized porch for a succah, the other had two options, but one might not be available, and the other had more bedrooms, but not much sitting space on the open part of the mirpesset, so the women would have to sit under a roof instead of the sechach….

“Honestly, it’s so crazy by me, I don’t have the head for this,” Adina said. She sounded really frazzled. “I’m exhausted, you know how it is in the ninth month. And I have a million projects to wrap up for work before the baby, and Chayala’s been home sick for a week….”

And Mimi just sounded so, so tired.

I got it. They were having babies. Fine. But someone had to take care of these Succos plans if my in-laws wanted to land in the country with somewhere to stay.

I took down numbers, made calls, sent out messages to several email lists, and finally presented a short list to my mother-in-law: three decent-sized apartments, all pretty close to Adina and not too far from us, reasonable pricing, pictures and all.

When my in-laws finally selected an option and signed a short-term contract, I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, we could actually figure out concrete plans.

The thing about working in the food industry is that my busiest seasons coincide with Erev Yom Tov, which means that I need to do my Yom Tov prep well in advance if I want to have food to serve my family. We always have plenty of cookies and cakes — anything that comes out less than perfect goes into my own freezer, or to family and friends who are very willing to enjoy them — but what about the rest of the food?

I wrote up a Rosh Hashanah menu two weeks in advance, and began preparing and freezing dishes, crossing them off my list one by one. When I got up to kugels, I wondered if I should double or triple the recipes to have enough for Succos, too. Why do the work twice?

I knew my mother-in-law planned to do the cooking herself — they didn’t have the means to order in from personal chefs or those home catering services. And they were landing only three days before Yom Tov, which didn’t leave much time for her to cook. I knew I’d be completely swamped during those three days with pre-Yom Tov orders, so if I wanted to contribute anything to the menu, now was the time.

“What can I make for Yom Tov?” I asked my mother-in-law. “I mean, I’ll bring cakes and cookies, obviously, but what else?”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Ruchi. Don’t worry about it. I’ll work things out when I arrive,” my mother-in-law said.

I rolled my eyes at the phone. When she arrived? It would be late Sunday night. Yom Tov was what, Wednesday night? And for my in-laws, it would be a three-day Yom Tov. How did my mother-in-law expect to shop, cook, and prepare for hosting close to 20 people – three families, my brother-in-law in yeshivah, and my parents-in-law themselves — all in two and a half days?

When I vented my frustration to Zevi, he shrugged pragmatically. “You decide what you want to do, and offer that,” he suggested.

“I guess,” I said doubtfully. “I just wonder what will happen two days before Yom Tov when they have literally nothing in the house.”

“Eh, my mother’s been making Yom Tov for years. I don’t think you need to worry,” Zevi said, brushing it aside.

Of course she had. But not in a foreign country. And not when her last-minute whirlwind was going to end up putting pressure on me, just when things in my business hit their busiest peak.

In the end, I offered my mother-in-law to make a few different kugels and side dishes, while I was anyway doing the Rosh Hashanah cooking.

“That’s really sweet of you, Ruchi,” Ma said. “I mean, I know you pull these things off at the drop of a hat, it’s your business after all. But still, you’re a doll, whatever you can do is great, no pressure.”

I hung up the phone, not sure if I should feel complimented or annoyed. I could pull these things off at the drop of a hat? Nuh-uh. I worked really hard to be organized, to get things done in advance, to prepare and to be on top of everything. It wasn’t easy to make huge batches of potato kugels, sweet potato pies, apple kugelettes, carrot muffins, and whatnot. But I had to do it in advance, because I knew what my schedule looked like nearer to Yom Tov. And I knew what I’d be up against then if I didn’t think ahead of the game now.

And then there were the chicken and meat sales.

We always order our Yom Tov chicken and meat with the neighborhood “kupat hashechunah” sales. It just works out so much cheaper. When I was filling out the forms and adding quantities for our order, I thought of my mother-in-law.

Sure, she could buy it all in the grocery or the butcher store when she arrived. But it was a shame — the sales were so much cheaper. You just had to be a little more organized, know what you were ordering, and place the order correctly.

“Ask your mother if she wants to order chicken and meat through the kupah,” I suggested to Zevi. “Tell her the deadline is in a couple of days. I’m happy to add her order to ours, we just need the numbers ASAP.”

My mother-in-law called me the next evening. “Ruchi, what’s this about chicken and meat on sale? Zevi was telling me….”

I explained how the neighborhood sales worked. Ma sounded interested. “That’s a great idea. I just honestly have no idea how much we’re going to need.”

“We could make an estimate, worst case you’ll buy a little more,” I suggested. “Should I email you the order form and you could let me know the quantities you want?”

“Oh, we could just figure it out together now,” Ma said, breezily. “Just read off the options and let’s do our best estimate. If you send it to my email, I’m going to forget all about it and miss the deadline.”

Why? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t.

Instead, I sat on the phone helping my mother-in-law plan a basic menu and figure out how much chicken and meat — and what kinds — she wanted. Of course, I had to explain the whole meat numbering system, too, and we spent a good chunk of time calculating how many kilos would be enough, but not too much….

It took an hour.

And then I placed the order and sighed in relief.

Zevi would pick it all up when the orders were ready, we’d figure out how to store it all in my large freezer (at least I have that space, thanks to my business), and we’d deliver it to my in-laws when they arrived.

“Well, it’s great to have that all organized,” my mother-in-law said brightly when we were done.

I looked at the clock and pursed my lips. It was great for her, maybe. For me, it was creeping close to midnight, and I had a crazy day coming up.

Whatever.

Two nights before Rosh Hashanah, I woke up at 3 a.m. Zevi’s phone was ringing, over and over.

I reached out and picked it up. Zevi could sleep through anything; I don’t even know why he keeps his phone on. I guess for me to hear it.

It was Mimi.

“Can we drop off Yossi?”

“Sure,” I said, instantly awake. Wow, this was exciting! I wondered if Mimi would have a boy or a girl. What a busy time of year to give birth, my goodness. Would she be back home in time for Yom Tov?

Yossi was sleeping in his carriage when my brother-in-law Meir dropped him off, but of course, as soon as the door closed behind him, my nephew woke up and started to scream. I brought him into our room so the kids wouldn’t wake up, but it still took a long time to calm him down. Dump a one-and-a-half year old in his aunt’s house in the middle of the night and that’s what happens, I guess.

Yossi was peacefully sleeping at 5 a.m. when my kids decided to start their day. Great. I dragged myself out of bed.

At 7, the phone rang. “Mazel tov!” Meir sounded giddy. “Guess what? It’s twins! Boy and girl!”

Twins? My mouth dropped open.

“Wow! Wow, wow! A double mazel tov! That’s incredible! How is Mimi?”

The kids clamored to hear the news. Yossi woke up and started to wail. I don’t think he was too excited about having two new siblings. He just wanted his mommy.

“We’ll keep Yossi as long as you need me to,” I told Meir. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

Zevi and I quickly recalculated routes and schedules to get Meir to his morah, on the other side of the neighborhood. I had a ton of orders to fill; it wasn’t the greatest time to be hosting an extra, very unhappy toddler, but this is what family does, right? And Adina was totally out of commission. She had a week or two to go still, but was barely coping with her own little ones in the meantime.

“I can’t believe it’s twins. No wonder Mimi’s been so anxious about managing after birth.”

“Yeah, it’s good my parents are coming,” Zevi agreed.

Well, yes, but what did my mother-in-law think — that Yom Tov would make itself while she played night nurse and watched all the grandchildren so that their kimpeturin mothers could rest?

She was only one person, after all.

I knew what would happen. It would all fall on me. Just what I’d been trying to avoid all along.

Adina had her baby the day that my in-laws were flying in, one day after Yom Kippur. Of course. And it was a boy, so that meant a shalom zachar on Shabbos Chol Hamoed, a bris one day later on the Sunday. She’d left two of her kids at a neighbor; I just had the youngest, and hardest, one. And it was three days before Succos, there was no gan or anything, so that meant we had our hands very, very full.

“I have, like, 40 orders to fill this week,” I told Zevi. “Maybe you could take the kids out for a couple hours and I’ll get a head start? I have a girl coming over this afternoon to help out, but….”

“Yeah, sure. A little later, though. I told my father I’ll take care of his succah and arba minim, and I want to do that this morning. I could take Ezzy along,” he offered.

I made a face. It was a help to take Ezzy, for sure, but I still had Baily and the little ones to take care of, plus Adina’s toddler, Chayala. How was I going to get anything done?

“Sorry, Ruch, I didn’t realize you’d need me now. I figured it won’t take me too long to put up some kind of pop-up succah and deal with the arba minim.”

First the meat and chicken, then all the cooking, now this. Something bubbled up inside me, all the words I’d been holding back all along.

“Can we please be done with this? We have lives, too. Your parents are flying in to make Yom Tov, let them take care of what they need.”

Zevi looked startled at my vehemence. “It’s just a couple hours. I didn’t think this was a big deal.”

I sighed. “Yeah, but everything is just a couple hours. The kugels. The challahs. The cakes. Making their orders and picking them up….”

“No problem,” Zevi said, calmly. “No one expects you to do any more. You’ve done enough, we’re helping with what we can, you can totally step back now.”

MY in-laws arrived late that night. One of my neighbors agreed to babysit, and Zevi and I went over to say hello.

Mimi and her family had already moved into the apartment, twins and all. The apartment was a mess of suitcases and baby equipment, noise and people, random food items sitting out on the counter as if half a grocery order was just being unpacked. Okay, so they managed to pull together the groceries; that was impressive, I guess. I wondered who made the order, or if Mimi’s husband had done a makolet run.

“Zevi! Ruchi! Hiiii!” my mother-in-law greeted us with her usual enthusiasm. She didn’t seem perturbed by the mess; I guess she was used to it. “Want something to eat? We’re putting together some supper.”

“We ate already,” I said, glancing discreetly at the clock. It was almost 11 p.m. What did she think, we’d been waiting for them to land to eat sandwiches with them?

Mimi emerged from one of the bedrooms, a baby in her arms. “Can someone get me a drink, please?”

“Sure, sweetie. I’m just looking for…” my mother-in-law rummaged in a cabinet, then looked around. “We don’t have any plastic cups, do we?”

It didn’t look like it.

Ma looked at Zevi and me. “Is there a grocery or something still open?”

“We have plastic cups at home,” I said. “It’s not that near, but—”

“I’ll bring you some,” Zevi offered. “Anything else you need in the meantime? For the night, or for breakfast?”

“Oh, we’ll pick up breakfast in the morning,” my mother-in-law said, vaguely.

Zevi ended up doing the morning makolet run, picking up cereals and coffee and milk and some bread and spreads for his family. When he went to drop it off, he reported to me that my in-laws phone plans weren’t working, and they needed help sorting them out.

I tried to breathe deeply. It would be fine; I had a full-day babysitter today for a reason. I just had to focus on babkas and bundts; muffins and mocha swirl and whatever else I had to bake, pack up, and send out for delivery in time for Yom Tov.

Zevi disappeared to deal with his parents’ phone plans, and I sent the kids out with the babysitter and dove into the baking.

When I emerged several hours later, I saw that my mother-in-law had tried calling. Guess her phone was sorted out, then.

“Want to come over with the kids for supper? Say, 8-ish?” she asked brightly.

Um. My kids went to sleep at 7. And I had a packed schedule with the baking.

“It’s fine if not! We’ll come by soon to say hello to them at your place. I have some gifts,” my mother-in-law said, cheerfully. “Anyway, I was out shopping today — that supermarket was insanely crowded, my goodness!”

Well, of course, it was two days to Yom Tov.

“But I was wondering, one thing I didn’t get to pick up was pretty disposable dishes, you know, a nice runner for the table, some flowers…. I think I’m going to be cooking all day tomorrow, but I thought maybe you have a few minutes, if you’re anyway running out, to pick up the dishes and things? We’ll pay, of course.”

I thought about what the paper goods store was like on Erev Yom Tov. Worse than the supermarket, because the place had narrower aisles and one checkout counter. It would be a madhouse.

“It wouldn’t exactly be a few minutes, you know,” I blurted out, before I could think twice. “It’s an hour at least, and I have a business to run. The deliveries need to go out on time. And my kids are home, what am I supposed to do with them? I don’t have everyone offering me help like Adina and Mimi.” All the resentment of the past few weeks bubbled up and out, all at once. “I wish I could’ve known this a couple of weeks ago. I would have done it with pleasure. But now I just can’t do any more.”

I didn’t mean for it to come out so… sharply, I guess. But my mother-in-law’s awkward silence made me realize what I’d sounded like.

“It’s fine, Ruchi. You don’t have to do anything. I was just asking,” she said, sounding … wounded.

I felt bad, but at the same time, I was really annoyed.

Didn’t she realize that her laid-back approach was causing all the extra stress to land on me?

If I could tell Mommy one thing, it would be: I’ve been trying so hard to do my part and help out, but your lack of planning means that far too much is falling on me — and I’m stretched thin, too.

Golda

We’ve never been that type of family to fly to Israel for Succos. To fly anywhere, anytime, really.

But this was different. My daughter Mimi and daughter-in-law Adina were both due around the same time. And we had Zevi and Ruchi and their kids living in Israel, too. None of them were planning to fly in, and I haven’t visited in years.

And then Moshe’s friend, a travel agent, offered him a great deal… and there we were, booked on flights to Israel for Succos, just like that.

Our children were really excited. Mimi was particularly relieved — she kept saying she didn’t know how she would manage, and this would make all the difference. Adina’s more relaxed, but she was also really happy to hear that we planned to make and host Yom Tov for everyone. Of course, we’d need to find an apartment near to her — she’d be right after birth. But we could figure that out when it came closer.

Ruchi had all kinds of questions — when exactly we’d arrive, how we planned to do the meals, succah, find an apartment, whatever. She’s that type — super geshikt, a real balabusta, and everything planned to the last detail long in advance. It’s not our family’s type at all, but it works for her, it works for Zevi, and I guess that’s how she runs the successful business that she does.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be sorted out in due time,” I told her laughingly.

MY friend Henny does Succos in Israel almost every year, and she had fountains of advice for me.

“So I have the names and numbers of a few home catering businesses, or there’s a personal chef who can come and prep everything in your own kitchen before you arrive….”

“Catering? Chefs? Henny, have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” I interrupted her, laughing. “We’re going to Israel for our children, not because we’ve won the lottery. I’m going to be cooking myself, my regular food, which we’ll buy in the grocery. And we’re going to rent some old apartment, not a luxury penthouse in the new buildings.”

“Oh, you have a rental confirmed?” Henny asked.

“No, not yet, but we’re looking into things. My children have a lot of friends traveling for Succos, we’ll probably rent directly from one of them.”

“Right. There’s a big supply of those apartments, less demand. You could probably wait until nearer the time; people will go down in price because they’re more desperate to get a renter.”

That made sense. I shelved the rental question for a few weeks — until Ruchi called again.

“Hi Ma… I just wanted to know, any idea of your Yom Tov plans yet?”

“Plans?” What did she mean? “I mean, you’re invited for all the meals, obviously.”

“Thanks so much, Ma. I was just thinking, it really depends where you’re staying. The kids can’t walk so far, we won’t necessarily be able to walk back and forth for every meal if you’re not going to be nearby.”

Oh. Right.

“Well, we’re looking for an apartment near Adina… she’ll be right after birth. Unless we find a bigger place, and Mimi and Adina both move in. But I hear that you need to know about walking distance. Maybe you and Zevi could look into some of the options? Send us some pictures? I heard that the prices will drop nearer to Yom Tov, but if we find something reasonable and in the right location, maybe we could just go ahead now.”

The truth was, with only a few weeks to go until the trip, we probably did need to finalize something already. At least to be able to reassure Mimi that she would have space to move in, and maybe Adina too.

Ruchi got back to me a day or two later; she’d emailed me a few options. They were all reasonable, but one of them seemed to be the best deal — more space, less pricey. The pictures looked okay, and the renters were a nice family that Adina knew well.

Moshe sent over the deposit, we signed a contract, and I told Ruchi we were all set. “And it’s not too far from you, either, so we’re all set,” I said.

See? I didn’t tell her. There was really nothing to worry about — we’re all sorted, and well in advance, too.

But if I thought my daughter-in-law would be satisfied now that the accommodation question was sorted, I was wrong.

She had more questions. About the menu, the food. Should they order us meat and chicken? What did I want her to make? What about side dishes, what about the third day Yom Tov, did we have pots and pans and a Crockpot as part of the rental deal….

Honestly, it was nice of her to get busy with it, and I did appreciate that she and Zevi took care of that meat and chicken order to save us money — although honestly, I don’t know how much we saved by the time we were finished guessing amounts. I kept overestimating because I didn’t want to have too little — but besides that, I felt a bit like… it wasn’t necessary. I prefer to keep things simple, figure it out when I arrive. I just need some chicken, some meat, some potatoes, some store-bought ice cream and cake. It’s not a big deal. I don’t get so fancy; Ruchi knows that.

“I was thinking, I can take care of sides, a few types of kugel, some fruit crisps, carrot muffins….”

“Whatever you want to do is great,” I told her.

She really was a sweetheart. I just hope she remembered that we don’t need all of this, we certainly don’t need her to impress us. We’re not high maintenance type of people, after all.

Rosh Hashanah came and went, and the last few details were falling into place. Mimi’s twins arrived; I was beyond excited to meet those adorable babies. She definitely had her hands full; it was good we were going to be there for Yom Tov.

Meanwhile, Moshe spoke to Zevi about getting hold of a pop-up succah and arba minim, so that was sorted. I got busy packing and shopping for gifts — something different for each grandchild, depending on their age and stage.

This was going to be one amazing trip.

We arrived to a real balagan. Mimi and her toddler and twin babies, unpacked groceries that someone had picked up — Mimi’s husband? Or did Mimi do that grocery order she’d mentioned? — suitcases and linens and jet lag and everything that comes along with 12-plus hours of international travel, right after Yom Kippur to boot.

But I didn’t mind the balagan. It’s so exciting to see the children and their families. Zevi and Ruchi popped by, and we’d go see Adina and her new baby in the hospital the next morning.

I put together some sandwiches for everyone; we had basic groceries, although for some reason, no one had thought of disposable cups. Zevi went to fetch some from his apartment, so we were all good.

The next morning, he arrived bright and early with breakfast. The Israeli packaging brought back a wave of memories; it was good to be here.

“Thanks, Zevi, this is such a help,” I told him. “When we’re done with breakfast, could you direct me to a supermarket so I can get started cooking?”

“Wait, before that, our phones aren’t working,” Moshe said, from the table. “The guy told me the SIM card would work abroad, but apparently not. Do you know where we can get ourselves a phone plan?”

“Sure, you definitely need a working phone to get around here,” Zevi said. “Let me just go back to help Ruchi with the kids, and then I’ll be on it.”

Fixing the phones, and then doing the shopping, took a lot longer than I’d bargained for — I guess it was the pre-Yom Tov rush and all. And then we headed out to the hospital to visit Adina. It was late afternoon by the time I got started on the cooking, but that was okay — there was still a whole day and a half before Yom Tov.

Mimi wandered into the kitchen, a rare moment when both twins were sleeping. “Hey, Ma. Did we get something for supper tonight?”

I was going to say pizza but I noticed her eyeing the schnitzels on the counter hungrily. Poor girl, when was the last time she’d had a normal, home-cooked meal?

“I’ll make some extra schnitzels and we’ll put a bag of fries in the oven,” I told her. “Let me tell Shuey he and the kids can come, also. And maybe we’ll invite Zevi and Ruchi and the family?”

Shuey and his kids were excited to come for supper and stay the evening, though Ruchi declined — her little ones would be sleeping already. That was fine; we’d see them plenty over Yom Tov.

“How are the preps going? Cooking and whatever?”

“It’s good, it’s good,” I told her. My eye fell on the succah outside; Zevi had set it up for us, folding table and all. Things were all falling into place. “You know what I’m thinking? One thing we don’t have sorted yet is the paper goods. Pretty disposable dishes, a nice runner for the table, maybe flowers….”

I stopped to calculate my time — tomorrow would be hectic. Cooking, more cooking, even more cooking… and Adina might be discharged. And Mimi really needed help with her twins….

“I’m not going to have time to get out to the paper goods store, but maybe if you or Zevi have a few minutes? We’ll pay, of course.”

I thought Ruchi would be happy to help; she always wanted to know what she could do. I definitely didn’t mean to burden her; she’d done so much already. Honestly, I was more just thinking aloud than anything else.

But Ruchi didn’t seem to take it that way.

“Um, it’s not exactly a short job,” she said, defensively. “It’s an hour at least, and I have a business to run. The deliveries need to go out on time. And my kids are home, what am I supposed to do with them? I don’t have everyone offering me help like Adina and Mimi.” She sounded resentful. What? “I wish I could’ve known this a couple of weeks ago. I would have done it with pleasure. But now I just can’t do any more.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

“No worries! No problem at all. I didn’t mean to pressure you,” I told Ruchi. “I was just thinking if it’s not a big deal. But I’ll ask… well, I’ll see if someone here has time. Or we’ll leave it. It’s totally fine either way.”

“Right. I mean, I don’t know who else will be able to do it. Mimi and Adina are out of action, and if you’re busy with the cooking…”

It was true; the only thing I could think of was to ask Zevi, but I didn’t want to do that, with Ruchi sounding so stressed-out.

“If we don’t have nice paper goods, it’s also fine,” I said.

Zevi came by that evening with some of the kugels and side dishes that Ruchi had prepared. The kitchen was miraculously quiet, and even though I hadn’t planned to mention anything, I couldn’t help but ask him if he knew what had upset Ruchi earlier.

“I really didn’t mean to make her feel like she had to do anything. I was just mentioning that we needed paper goods, if she happened to be going out,” I explained.

Zevi fidgeted a little, taking time to answer. So there was something bigger going on here.

“I think it’s just… Ruchi kind of feels like she did a lot already. And she was happy to help in advance, but now she’s so busy with her business… I think she was frustrated because it’s a lot for her, you know? Everyone else is busy with a new baby or two but she also has the kids, and her job… and then she did so much of the cooking already….”

I didn’t know what to say. “Zevi, I hear that she’s so busy, but honestly, we never asked her to spend so much time cooking. I thought she wanted to, she said she was anyway busy with Rosh Hashanah cooking… We would have been fine with roast potatoes or whatever at the last minute. It wouldn’t have been as fancy, but you know our family, we don’t need all that. If I would’ve known it was so hard for her to put herself out, I would never have told her to go ahead and do anything at all.”

If I could tell Ruchi one thing, it would be: It’s really nice of you to step in and do so much in advance, but honestly, no one asked or expected it — and we would have happily figured it out at the last minute, on our own. 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1033)