Both Sea and I come from families with mixed religious histories: a quirky blend of Atheism, ambivalent Christianity and Judaism. We celebrate Christmas, but also light the Chanukiah. Sea eats Cadbury Creme Eggs with abandon, and my family (one of my favourite cousins) hosts a Passover Seder.
This year’s Passover Seder is a week away. For those of you unfamiliar with its traditions, one of them involves drinking four glasses of wine. My family’s Seder is a radical freedom Seder, which sacrifices a lot of the text and traditions in favour of feminism, queer-inclusivity and anti-Zionism. One of the things it doesn’t sacrifice, however, is the drinking. You can drink more or less than four glasses, but you will be drinking red wine.
To date, I’ve been saved from having to explain why I’m not drinking by the fact that I don’t drink ever. I don’t like alcohol, and I don’t drink it in my regular goings on. Passover is the exception: I have never refused the Passover wine.
We’re not ready to tell the cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and random neighbours who attend the Seder that we’re having a kid. They’ll know eventually, of course, but not until some point in the second trimester. I would rather they not find out from the untouched glass of wine sitting conspicuously at the side of my plate.
So, what do I do? Again, this isn’t an occassion where simply saying, “I’ll skip the wine” is kosher. I could:
a) Lie and claim to be on antibiotics, which will lead to nosy relatives asking about my health.
b) Bring grape juice and try to sneakily pour myself a glass in the kitchen.
c) Sacrifice tradition, pass on the wine, and hope nobody pries.
d) Do something else that I haven’t thought of, that one of you brilliant people will suggest.
And yes, I know that one glass of wine is unlikely to stunt our fetus, but I’d rather not get something the size of a blueberry drunk.