Until our children were born, almost 11 years ago, we hadn't realized how boring our Chanukah routine had become. Year after year, we'd light candles, sing prayers, open a gift, eat latkes, open a window and go to sleep.
Eight nights in a row and that routine gets old. When we became parents, Husband and I wanted to add a bit more fun to the celebration while remaining true to Judaism.
In other words, no wreaths or Homer Simpson-as-Santa monstrosities for the front yard. Instead, we spiced up the miracle of lights by assigning a particular theme for each night.
#1. On the first night, Chanukah is something to behold. Our house smells of organic latkes and olive oil, children get high on chocolate gelt, and Mommy spikes eggnog so we all get along. The theme of the evening is fun, which means my kids get a gift that has no redeeming social value. I try to think happy thoughts, even as Rock Band snatches my last nerve. The eggnog helps.
#2. In an attempt to make up for the previous night's debauchery, we stomp on our boys' buzz by pelting them with pants and socks for practical night. I get super-strength, industrialized undergarments and Husband smiles at a Target tie. We are equal-opportunity offenders.
#3. Everyone gets a book and, thankfully, my kids are still young enough to enjoy this ritual. As I sit in front of the fireplace, enjoying peace and quiet, I wonder why a new Diary of a Wimpy Kid book can't come out every week. The peace doesn't last forever. At dinner, one of the children will pick at leftover latkes with thinly veiled hostility and suggest a cooking book for Mommy next year. Eggnog still helps.
#4. We're only allowed to exchange homemade presents during this evening's celebration. I usually produce an essay that annoys someone, the boys use glue and Popsicle sticks in a way that's clearly interpretive art, and Husband whips up a poem at the last minute like our wedding vows or this classic from a few years ago: "Roses are red, violets are blueish. If it wasn't for Christmas, we'd all be Jewish."
#5. The fifth night of Chanukah is reserved for those less fortunate — charity night. No, Democrats don't count. Another buzz kill for the boys as they bust open piggy banks and we demand 20 percent. Husband and I usually pick a worthy cause and talk about why Joshua House, The American Cancer Society or Mommy's Wine Fund deserves the cash.
#6. By now, I've served the last of the latkes and everyone receives a complimentary tube of Tums. Our focus is on educational toys that must encourage the use of brain cells, not their destruction, and help get the boys into Harvard all at the same time. No pressure.
#7. Our sons arrive at the dinner table wondering, "Is it still Chanukah?" Husband usually doesn't want to see another potato until St. Patrick's Day. Our gift this evening must benefit the entire household, so I pretend to be overjoyed with steak knives and a few Calphalon pots.
#8. The gift this last night of Chanukah is anything of their choice which usually means more football or hockey equipment. These "treasures" will disappear within a week, not to be found again until I plop down on the sofa one night at just the right angle. I'll yelp, reach underneath a cushion, and find a strategically placed hockey stick.
Finally, a gift we can all enjoy.
Over the years, some friends have heard about this idea and made it their own, crafting themes to fit their family. Childless couples dedicate at least a few nights to erotica and role-play. I pretend to be appalled, rather than jealous. A teacher at my sons' school varies my original idea by adding movie night, and last year his family visited a drive-in together. Other people might enjoy a picnic night where everyone eats outdoors, or maybe music night if you are a family of musicians.
The important thing is to have fun together and go easy on the latkes. Happy Chanukah!
This article appears in Dec 2-8, 2010.