"To start the day on the right note, I always go to vasikin Megillah and then make challah for the seudah — a very meaningful hafrashas challah before the madness begins"

In response to our latest poll...

When we asked about Adar Stress Causers, a flood of ideas, strategies, and suggestions all came pouring in, nearly short-circuiting our Ballot Box algorithm. It was really stressing us out. Here is a selection of responses we hope will empower you to stave off the yetzer hara as he does his best to try to stamp out the Adar joy. That said, we wish you all a super happy, cheerful, merry, jolly, joyful, and, most of all, stress-free, Purim (although after you finish reading this, you might be more stressed out than ever).

It’s brought down in halachah that one should try to learn on Purim, as it’s a day of kabbalas haTorah. So every year, my husband and I used to always get so stressed because there’s never enough time on Purim as it is, between delivering all the shalach manos, preparing for the Purim seudah, dealing with costume crises, and the other thousand things going on. And for my husband to sit and learn through all this — forget it! But then he’s upset because he didn’t get to learn — until he came up with a great solution: He goes to vasikin, and then he’s happy because he got a few hours of learning in, and I’m happy because he’s around to help me.

Look, we live in Jerusalem and don’t do poems or worry about costume chapping or themes.  And we’re certainly not gvir status. My biggest Adar stressor is getting away with a decent shalach manos without overspending. I find that homemade baking is the cheap way to go, although it’s not always cheap when it comes to time, or when I think about the fact that many people won’t touch another person’s baked goods, especially if they’ve arrived as crumbs.

My wife is trying to pressure me into dressing up (as a gingerbread man) to match the kids’ costumes and shalach manos. I haven’t dressed up for about 23 years, but I’m sure my talmidim will find it amusing.

Losing sight of the holiness and spiritual opportunities of the day used to depress me. So now, to start the day on the right note, I always go to vasikin Megillah and then make challah for the seudah — a very meaningful hafrashas challah before the madness begins.

My biggest stressor? Making sure my kids’ costumes and shalach manos creations will stay in perfect shape even though we’ll be traveling from town to town delivering to various educators and relatives in a minivan packed with kids on a sugar-high and their elaborate costumes and chocolates and wines and cookies balancing just perfectly in their cellophane encasing and painstakingly curled ribbons with an originally-created Simchas Purim card. Any suggestions to take down the stress on this would be appreciated.

My biggest stressor is Time! Even for the most organized of us, how is it possible to fulfill all the mitzvos hayom in 24 hours of Purim? We need a Yom Tov Sheini shel Galuyos. Morning is up at haneitz to get the earliest Shacharis and Megillah in order to get in all those deliveries for each child who has their class list up in your car with Scotch tape and their best friends marked in red… then Yeshivas Mordechai Hatzaddik… teachers’ deliveries… tzedakah… visit the Rav… visit parents/family…  sneak some healthy food into hyperactive kids’ mouths (if you can access their mouths behind the moustache)… set up tables for Seudah… throw food onto the hot plates... sweep floors and surfaces... almost shkiah... Minchaaaaaah... wash everyone please!!!... and then, all those men who never drink alcohol forcing themselves to be mehader in the mitzvah…  Thank You Hashem for the neis of Purim, and for saving us from every Haman along the way.  But please make the sun stand still in the sky for me this year…

Making 400 mishloach manos packages.  Every year I say I’m making less, and each year I realize that I just can’t! Baruch Hashem with lots of kids, it’s at least 25 packages per child for the hakaras hatov to all their teachers and rebbeim. All of my husband’s students. All my neighbors and friends (every year I think, aren’t we passed this? Can’t we just do the mitzvah and give to those in need something yummy for the Seudah instead of trying to impress each other with new ideas and themes each year? But when they come to the door, it’s easier just to have something to give them back than to explain my hashkafah). All my relatives.  (A few years ago, I actually sent out a message to everyone asking if we can all agree to not give each other mishloach manos, and was sure everyone would agree with me, but when I came to the family Seudah empty-handed, I was mortified. Everyone had another excuse why they had one for me: One cousin said she happened to have extras, but when I saw the perfect biscotti she baked lined up neatly in beautiful glass cookie jars, I couldn’t help but think she just needed to show off.)  I recently did some introspection, trying to see if and how I can make Purim prep a time filled with simchah instead of stress. I once sort of realized that all this work is just about my perception of filling others’ expectations, yet as much as each year I say I will not be doing all this again, I realize that these are the expectations that we as a community have put in place. If I try to be “better,” teachers and rebbeim feel unappreciated, my husband’s students will be disappointed, my relatives will wish I wasn’t part of their family, and my kids will be the outcasts and the nebs of their classes. Is it worth it?

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 902)