Mama

Today, Raphaela and I took on the driving rain and intermittent hail storms to attend a Shabbat lunch with a couple visiting from the States, one of my parents' oldest friends from New York. Once everyone stopped calling me by my mother's name - my mother and I share many facial features - we settled into the meal, and instead I was addressed as "Mama."

I know from friends that once you have a child, you are more often than not defined as "the mother of...", and you become the chauffeur who ferries the adored Princess from place to place.

Some would resent that loss of individuality and identity. I don't, in fact I enjoyed the attention and affection that Raphaela received. It felt like a good warm-up for our trip to Boston next month for Pessach, where my daughter will meet our extended family and friends.