Can I keep everyone happy without causing a midwinter war?

B

alancing grocery bags should be an Olympic sport. I mean, my kids make their own sport of “most creative way to disappear when Mommy gets home with the groceries” so why not?

I’m just in the kitchen when my phone rings. I drop a bag onto the island and answer it with my elbow. Another sport!

“Tell me about your midwinter plans,” my best friend, Tali, says with absolutely zero introduction, the way you can only do with people you’ve been friends with forever.

“We’re doing the Lakeviews again, and we are really excited!” I stuff my cans into the pantry, fantasize for a moment about pulling everything out and organizing it at long last, and then firmly shut the door. “Last year, and mind you, I’m probably repainting every hole with rose-colored glasses—”

“I’m sorry, painting over holes with rose-colored glasses? That is the worst mixing of metaphors I’ve ever heard,” Tali interrupts.

I laugh and almost drop a box of Cinnamon Life. “You know what I mean. Like, I’m sure it wasn’t as perfect as I remember. But it was pretty magical. Three days of hotel life plus the program is incredibly family oriented. Everything is wholesome and sweet and designed so that families can really maximize their time together. And we usually see the same families there — the Taubs, the Feingolds, they stopped in at Shimmy’s bar mitzvah, remember? — so we know a lot of them already. And there are magic shows and music groups at night….”

I’m waxing lyrical about the Lakeviews — they should pay me for the advertisement — almost forgetting who I’m talking to. I love Tali, but my husband, Binyamin, juuusst about tolerates her and her husband for my sake. I have an ironclad rule not to tell her about our plans for vacations or Chol Hamoed trips, or she’d find a way to bring her family to the same place and try to arrange all these group activities, something I wouldn’t mind, but Binyamin would hate. I know I’m safe with midwinter, though; she always uses the time to visit her family in Miami.

“Well, we can’t do Miami this year. We’re going for my niece’s wedding a week later,” Tali says. “But I’m sold. I’ll take three days in Lakeviews. You should get a commission.”

Now I really do drop what I’m holding. I bend down to see it was a bag of pasta. This is not good. This is very, very not good.

“Hmmm? Come again?”

Tali’s voice rises excitedly; I can hear her Waze speaking in the background.

“Where are you?” I ask, mainly to distract her.

“Picking Simi up from piano. Listen, Blums, I’m totally sold. We’re joining you at Lakeviews. Everything is on-site? Are there counselors for the kids?”

I’m so caught off guard, I just answer honestly. “Yeah, totally. Every day, with activities and lunches. But I never left them with the groups, we use it as a hotel.”

Tali laughs. “You would. Hey, Sim!” she calls out. “Bluma, call you later.” She disconnects.

Oh. Okay. I look down at my phone in horror. What on earth just happened?

I put away the last of the groceries and fill a pot of water for macaroni. I want to pretend nothing just happened, but the next thing I know, Tali’s texting me excitedly about how she just booked the Lakeviews.