Happy McHanukkah!

Or, how I angered my God-in-Law in one easy step!

Bear and I are not religious. Bear's family is Jewish but celebrates pretty much every holiday (I think we'd been going out about three months when he invited me over for Bastille Day Brunch. Huh?). I went to a private Christian school from kindergarten through second grade, and we went to a smattering of church services during my childhood, but my feet, like Bear's, are pretty firmly planted in the Agnostic camp.

The holidays are pretty simple for us: we do Hanukkah with his family and Christmas with mine. The tricky part, however, is what to do within our own household. There are plenty of secular parts of Christmas--the tree, the lights, the candy canes--we can participate in without necessarily busting out Bible stories and putting a manger scene on our front lawn.

Hanukkah, however, is a different story. It's a fully religious holiday, and until this year, I've kind of avoided incorporating it into our own holiday traditions, because I haven't exactly been sure how to do it. It feels a little sacrilegious for us to light a menorah and recite a prayer if we're not 100% on board with the whole God concept; but now that Keira's old enough to understand the traditions we practice, it also feels wrong to leave Grandma Marmee and Pop-Pop's faith and culture out of the mix. Sure, we're at their house for at least one night of Hanukkah, gorging ourselves on latkes and cheese blintzes and participating in lighting the menorah...but is that really enough compared to six straight weeks of Christmastravaganza every year?

In the midst of pondering all of this, I also had to figure out how to teach our kindergarteners about Hanukkah, as part of Ye Olde Holiday Unit that every teacher in the universe is compelled to teach every December. Along with the read-alouds and paper menorahs (again, *cringe* at the idea of making a sacred religious object out of construction paper and gobs of glue), I decided I'd like to bring in latkes and jelly doughnuts for the kids to sample. Store-bought jelly doughnuts? Not a problem. Latkes, on the other hand, presented a challenge. We're not allowed to bring in electric skillets and cook for ourselves at school; Bear's mom warned me that making them at home and transporting them to school in foil, and/or microwaving them, would result in gooey mush.

Well, thought I, these kids eat crayons and pick their noses with great delight. How discerning can their tiny palates really be? Then again, did I really want to impress upon them that being Jewish means eating gnarly food? So I scrapped the idea of homemade latkes.

And now for the part where I apparently, and not surprisingly, angered my God-in-Law. I thought, Man, too bad I can't just drive through McDonald's and pass off their hash browns as latkes. Immediately, I told myself never to utter that thought aloud, especially in front of Bear's mom; but color me surprised when she called me up the next day and made that very suggestion. In fact, as it turns out, apparently McHash Browns-as-Latkes is a very common practice among kindergarten teachers (at my school, at least).

So, I did it. I passed off this...


...for these


...all the while thinking, "Good thing Jews don't believe in hell!"

Now, to be fair, I did tell the kids they weren't homemade and that "real latkes" taste much better. I cut them into fourths to disguise their telltale oblong shape. They loved them, and not one of them said, "Gee, Mrs. MamaBear, these taste just like the McDonald's hash browns I had on my way to school today!"

By the way, let's review: paper menorahs? Cringe. Fast food breakfast as traditional Jewish holy food? A-OK, apparently! Gotta love my logic. Might as well pass out Cheetos at Easter time and call them communion wafers.

Immediately following this blasphemous faux feast, I came down with a wretched head cold, and Ellie started teething again like mad. It's been almost a week since I've slept more than a few one-hour naps during the night, neither of the girls will nap during the day, I can't breathe through my nose, my head is killing me, and I can't take much because I'm still nursing. Hell? Maybe not. But as far as I'm concerned, my God-in-Law smote me, and I must repent.

The menorah now sits on the mantle, just above where the Christmas stockings hang, its first candle waiting to be lit tonight. I must now go practice my Hebrew.

Happy McHanukkah!