I'm a Jewish Mom and I'm Breaking the Mold

Ever since the birth of my first child, I followed completely the traditional path of Jewish motherhood. My voice grew louder, my hair grew bigger, and my desire to bedazzle grew stronger. For years, I succumbed to the only lifestyle I knew— that is, until three months ago, when my daughter insisted on bringing her WASPY friends, and by extension their mothers, to our Hampton house. I won’t lie, there was a brief period of uncomfortableness between us ladies. They wanted sugar free, I wanted gluten, dairy, and nut free. But slowly, they taught me a new path. And I began to change.That’s right. I’m no longer over-feeding, over-bearing, or over-compensating. I’m free. My daughter brings guests over, and I provide absolutely no food. My son brings home a girlfriend and I ask no questions. My neighbor is involved in a messy divorce  involving an affair between her and her brother in law, and I partake in no gossip. I am a new woman, the kind who doesn’t throw a bed party or bring sushi to her child’s sleep away camp, the kind who does not call up my neighbors mom and pretend to be a friend of her daughters to get the dish. Instead, I fill my time with other activities. Pilates. PTA. Home decorating with a pinterest catalogue. Finding my neighbor's sister on hinge and scheduling a meet up under a profile that uses my nephew’s pictures . I saw a black and white cookie the other day and I didn’t even eat it. We needed lunch on the weekend and I chose Chopt over our local deli. My neighbor's sister came to town to speak to my neighbor and I didn’t even sneak in through her upstairs window, the one above the dining room, to listen. And even if I did, I wouldn’t have worn my alo x aviator nation sweat set. I scrape my foot on the way in and I don’t even have a band-aid, neosporin, and brick cleaner in my not-present fanny pack. Instead of oy vey, I said oh no when the neighbor's sister dragged in her body and spotted me. I used regular kick boxing instead of krav maga to fight her, and I even let her fight me. I told her I never even liked the neighbor anyway and then asked if she would like some chicken soup instead of matzoh ball. We agreed to flee to Mexico, and I didn’t even stress about sunscreen on the beach. Instead of calling my kids three times a day, I stopped calling at all. I didn’t worry about the cleanliness of our motel. When we got into arguments, I didn’t even use the murder as a leverage point. I stopped reading about the weather and the jelly fish and started enjoying life. But oy vey, am I schvetzing.