When you feel a tightness in your chest, it can mean several things. Heart attack, panic attack or you just received a message from one of your in-laws. All sorts of things can be the cause. Some of us go on WebMD, some of us call our doctors and some of us just take a shot of tequila and hope it will subside. For the past few weeks, this tightness has been coming and going. First I thought it was because of everything that has been going on and life in general. Perhaps it was because they raised the price of my favorite sushi and I wasn’t going to be able justifying buying it anymore. Maybe it was because it is almost summer and I am still not swimsuit ready for a 44th year in a row. I just wasn’t sure until it hit me, it is almost time to start getting ready for Pesach. That could give anyone chest pains.

Slowly, but surely, people have begun to post pictures on Facebook about things they have started to buy. Carts filled with grape juice and other wares from Costco; someone even dropped off some bottles of yellow-capped Coke and Diet Coke that were on sale a few weeks ago. I have to remember to keep breathing or the tightness starts to choke me. If I take too much anti-anxiety medication, I will be of no use to anyone, especially those that live in my house that depend on me to feed them. Granted, a Passover staple in our home is coffee cake mix, but someone has got to make it! Though, I wonder if I weren’t around, would they know how to use the hand mixer? How two boxes of cake mix equals one 9 x13 tin? How you need to stock up on tins from Amazing Savings? How you can never buy too many eggs before the holiday starts? How you only need three bottles of oil and it doesn’t matter what kind of oil as long as it is on sale? Breathe, breathe, I need to breathe. Yup, nothing can happen to me or they will starve. And I am not saying this to pat myself on the back; they will actually starve because I am a horrific delegator. Bad for me, great for the men who live in my house.

When husband #1 realized that we were going to be home for Pesach this year, again, he looked at me quite earnestly and said, “Just tell me what you want me to do to help you and I will do it.” I looked back at him, not quite as earnestly and responded, “Ok, thank you for your offer. I would like you to do all of the shopping, all of the cooking, all of the cleaning, polish the silver, flip the mattresses and let me go to my cousin’s bat mitzvah in Israel alone.” Needless to say, the look of earnest turned to one of, “Really, I am trying to do something nice and this is how you answer me?” The lesson here, kids? Don’t ask a question if you don’t want to know the answer.

I will be the first to admit that I am bad at accepting help. Especially because no one can do things the way you want them to be done except for you. That’s the nature of the problem. I guess the tightness in my chest began because thoughts of pesach are not supposed to begin until after purim and I just wasn’t ready for those pre-Purim Passover pictures for another few weeks. That first time you walk into Shoprite and the passover section is up and ready—that could put anyone over the edge. Especially those of us who have no cleaning help. Or any help at all. Yes, it is my fault, because everything is my fault.

So I will still wait until after Purim seudah to start making my lists of when I am doing what. Keep breathing. I will make my menus. Keep breathing. I will look over every supermarket sale flyer to see what is cheapest where. Keep breathing. And I will take the time to remember that holiday is about family. And that every year the dynamics of family change—they go to Israel, they go to college, they go to Florida without you and that is ok. Just keep breathing and it will all get done. And then I get to drink four cups of wine with no one judging me.

By Banji Latkin Ganchrow

Banji Ganchrow is a self-proclaimed, totally unappreciated martyr. One day, someone will write a book about her. Or not.