What should I think when my girls parent so differently than I did?

IT

took four of us to get Chevy’s baby to sleep, I’m not kidding. It brought new meaning to the words, “It takes a village.”

Dinner was frozen pizza and cucumbers after that, but no one complained. I think we were all just too exhausted.

Yitzchak didn’t understand why a newborn’s bedtime had to take all evening, but Chevy has a very specific way of doing things and I have to respect that.

I sigh as I go upstairs to put a load in. If I’m having some less-than-charitable thoughts toward my daughter now that baby Rafi has been picked up, that isn’t anyone’s business.

I mean, I raised eight kids, thank you very much. And each one has, in my humble opinion, turned out to be a shining star. And who’s to say it’s not because I just held them all evening, and let them stay up as long as I was awake?

None of this, “He just needs to sleep, he does not need to eat or be held. If he cries, go in, give him the paci, say good night, and walk out.”

Malky is like this, too. I have no idea where they get it from. I turn the machine to cold — no need to read labels — and tiredly trudge back downstairs. I’m too old for this. Aviva is 12; it’s been a long time since I had to worry about sleep schedules.

Yitzchak’s at the dining room table with a bowl of caramel popcorn and the SET deck waiting. I smile tiredly and straighten my tichel. I guess after 30 years of marriage, he knows what I need.

“It’s not like I mind accommodating her meshigasen,” I say, as he lays the 12 cards out without looking at them, his eyebrows raised at me. “It’s just… SET!”

I lean over and pluck the match before I say anything I regret.