“I don’t understand how you never have time for me! I’m the only one home and I’m forever helping you. You never attend my school events! I feel like an orphan”

At Seudah Shlishis, I held my two-year-old niece on my lap as I listened with half an ear to the conversation between my mother and older sisters, who came to join us while their husbands were in shul.

“Ma, remember when we went to Disneyland?” asked Leah, as she helped herself to a piece of cake.

“You became chummy-chummy with Mickey Mouse,” Ma chided with a smile.

Aliza laughed as she rocked her baby and said, “I was intensely jealous when Mickey Mouse held your hand!”

“When I tried getting near Minnie Mouse, you wouldn’t let me, Ma,” added Devora.

“Please let’s not talk about when we got stuck in the Ferris wheel,” my mother teased.

If I could add in my two cents, I would say, “Boring!”

I’m a bas zekunim, born when my parents were busy marrying off my older siblings. Yeah, it’s awesome having my own room, no competition in the house, and all these delicious nieces and nephews, but there is one downside to being born later in my parent’s lives, and that is my mother’s physical stamina. Or lack thereof. Her knees aren’t what they used to be, which eliminated many family trips, especially Chol Hamoed outings. When my classmates gush about their vacation adventures, I have nothing to contribute! It doesn’t seem fair.

Later that evening, as I helped with the Motzaei Shabbos clean-up, I reminded my mother about Monday night’s PTA meeting. “I can’t wait until you meet Mrs. Shapiro. She’s such an amazing teacher.”

“Did you say Monday night?” asked Ma, as she warmed her hands on her mug.

“Yes, why?” I asked tensely. I continued washing the dishes but I was getting nervous.

“That morning I have a doctor’s appointment, and in the afternoon I have to visit Grandma. I’m afraid a third outing will be a bit too much for one day.”

I found myself scrubbing the same knife five times. Why can’t she make time for me? “Maybe you can push off the doctor’s appointment?” I tried.

“The one that I booked three months ago?” Ma asked as she walked over to me and squeezed my shoulders. “I’m sure your teacher will sing the highest of praises of you!”

I stewed as I scoured the cholent pot. Ma made time for Leah, Aliza, and Devora when they were young, so why couldn’t she do the same for me? She knew about this meeting a week ago!  This was yet another “privilege” of being a bas zekunim.

A few weeks later I came across a mega, one-day sale at Zara. Wow, I was waiting for this! Ma had reassured me that when I spotted this one-day sell-out she would accompany me to help choose some outfits. When I let her know, she said, “Wednesday afternoon? No good. I have a doctor’s appointment that day. Dr. Halperin set aside time especially for me.”

I nearly ripped the colorful advertisement in anger. Ma couldn’t let me down yet again! Before I could stop myself, I said, “I don’t understand how you never have time for me! I’m the only one home and I’m forever helping you. You never attend my school events! I feel like an orphan,” I said in despair, tears already coursing down my cheeks.