Eyes Wide Open

Here’s the thing: I’ve never, in all my 12 years, stayed up for an entire Seder.

The thing is, I don’t actually find the Seder boring. So there’s no good explanation in my mind why I never make it all the way until the end. It’s sort of a joke in my family: Yaeli will conk out right at the table about halfway through Hallel. It’s like the mile run we did in gym last week when I was just getting over the flu. I just about made it to the finish line…but not quite.

So this year, I’m determined to make it.

I even have a plan.

Erev Pesach in our house is not like the ones I hear about from my friends. There’s no chases, no mad rush to finish up the cooking or set the table. It’s actually a super-calm day, with plenty of time to rest, if that’s what I decide to do. Usually, I spend that quiet time in the afternoon reviewing my notes, so I’ll have something to add at the Seder, in between my older brothers’ lengthy discourses. I get my nails done, call a friend. But this year, I’m going to actually take a nap, obviously.

And just in case that’s not enough to keep my eyes from closing before “Leshana Haba B’Yerushalayim,” I have a secret stash right here in my drawer, marked with a pink sticker. Here’s what’s in it: chocolate–covered coffee beans (double dose of caffeine) and a green can containing what the label proclaims to be a “super drink” that will “boost energy!”

Perfect.

There’s one catch, and that’s that this stash is not actually kosher l’Pesach. But I’ve got that figured out, too. This year, instead of sleeping as late as possible, the way I tend to do when there’s no school, I’ll get up early. All evidence gone and plan in motion before sof zman achilas chametz.

I know, I know. I’m brilliant.

And to top it off, here I am the night before Pesach, all tucked in and ready for bed at the unheard of (for me) early hour of 9:30.

This is going to be great, I think, and it is great, until I wake with a stomachache at midnight and don’t fall back asleep until 3 am.

Morning dawns a bit too brightly, as mornings tend to do when you haven’t had enough sleep, and as I squint at the clock I feel a vague niggling in the back of my mind…but I can’t quite figure out what it is. I wash my hands, slide my feet into my fluffy slippers, pull on a t-shirt and skirt, and head downstairs to the kitchen, where I am greeted by my two goggle-eyed brothers who are grating maror into a bowl. (Yes, they are wearing goggles, no joke.)

“Yaeli, you missed the chametz party,” says Baruch. “Tati’s already done burning it.”

“Yeah, you’re super late,” agrees Yaakov. “You can’t eat any of the good stuff anymore.”

And then it hits me. My plan! My secret stash! I can’t eat it, and now it’s not even allowed to be in the house anymore!

“What’s wrong?” Baruch asks.

“Um, so, um, I sort of have chametz in my room,” I say, glancing around to make sure my mother is nowhere in sight.

“You WHAT?!” Yaakov hollers.

“Yeah, you heard me,” I say sheepishly. “Now what do I do?”

“Well, you definitely can’t eat it. And it can’t be here,” says Yaakov. “But if you run the two blocks to Levine’s shul you can add it to their fire. I’m sure they’re not done yet.”

Quick as a whip, furtive as a thief, I grab that bag from my drawer and steal out of the house, praying my mother doesn’t see me.

Thank goodness she doesn’t. My plan has clearly fails, because twelve hours later, even after a snug afternoon nap, I can feel my eyes closing even before we are finished with Maggid. I pry them open and join in the rousing rendition of Dayenu, albeit with several yawns added to the chorus.

Oh well, I tell myself as I prop my tired head on my open palms. There’s always next year!