I always worried and wondered what sort of mother I’d be.

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I always worried and wondered what sort of mother I’d be. I’m a little impatient — make that very. Multisyllabic words are my favorite kinds and I have a low tolerance for mindless stupidity (which is the Webster definition of children right?).

I had one comfort though: I was an awful kid and I have a million stories to tell. I figured at least I’d always be able to relate to my kids. I’d comfort them when they were down be there for them support them — the good stuff the stuff that really counts.

I never won an award. By now it’s almost a boast because I think I turned out all right and look what all those teacher and counselors didn’t appreciate. Growing up though it was very painful especially as I didn’t realize I wasn’t the type of girl who won awards.

I remember the last night of camp when they gave out the awards. “Best in Bunk” was awarded a siddur. It was my first year in camp a freshie just coming out of fourth grade. My bunk sat on the bottom left-hand bleachers in the social hall.

“Please let us know whether you daven nusach Ashkenaz or Sefard” the camp director announced. I turned to a staff member sitting next to me.

“How do I know what I daven?” I asked.

“Do you think you’re best in bunk?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know” I said. And in my head I thought Why not? Maybe? I had loved camp become alive there. Of course it would love me right back.

“Or maybe you’re the best in davening?” the staff member asked.

Again I didn’t know but they both sounded right. I started to get excited. “What nusach should I tell them?” The announcements were about to start and I needed to know now!

“You’ll worry about it if you need to” she said. I didn’t need to. They gave the award to a different girl and almost 20 years later I still remember her name — I actually met her sister recently and the award was all I could think about.