Jewish Moms Look Back at 2024

As a mother, I’m constantly reminded that time passes, so I focus on measuring time through growth and learning: As my daughter’s legs grow longer, her pants become shorter and shorter. And I find myself shocked when I glance over to see my son writing his own name—officially moving from toddler to preschooler.

When I look back at the year that is now ending, I am filled with joy because I can see and feel how much my children have grown and learned. But recently, I wonder, what about us—the mothers? What have we learned over this past, very challenging year?

Over the course of 2024, I’ve learned that being a Jewish mother can be truly beautiful. I kvelled every time my children taught me something new about our culture. I watched in awe as my daughter taught her kindergarten classmates the story of Hanukkah, even as I forgot certain parts. Watching my proud little 5-year-old teach her friends about our Jewish customs made my heart swell.

Being a Jewish mother can also be heartbreaking at times. Especially during these times. I’ve learned that I actually have to work harder than I ever imagined to instill a strong, joyous sense of identity in my children. And that same strong identity can often conflict with the sense of diversity I emphasize in almost every aspect of our lives. I want them to be proud of who they are, and so sure of it that nothing can take it away. And at the same time, I want them to appreciate and understand that we live in a world full of different types of people, and that all of us are equal.

I want them to be loud, proud Jews, and I also want to shelter them from the pain and hurt that many of us have felt more than ever since October 2023. I want them to feel safe. And I want them to have empathy for their first cousins who just this week visited from Israel, and immediately scoured our Brooklyn apartment looking for the mamad (a reinforced concrete room built into apartments in Israel to protect residents from missile attacks and other threats).

Mostly, what I’ve learned is that all of us moms are all learning, all the time. Especially during these times.

To commemorate and honor the grappling, learning, teaching, and growth we’ve all done this year, I reached out to some Jewish mothers I admire to hear how they’ve changed and what they’ve learned in 2024. We may all be mothers at different life stages, to children of different ages, and we may not measure our learning in explicit new skills, or shorter pants, but we’re here, too, evolving more than ever.

Micah Siva is a trained chef, registered dietitian, recipe writer, and food photographer, specializing in modern Jewish cuisine. Through her personal blog, Nosh with Micah, she shares Jewish-inspired, plant-forward recipes.

“I became a mom in a post-Oct. 7 world, and it has changed and shaped everything I do. I have a newfound interest and determination to create Jewish experiences for my son, and have been proactive in searching for Jewish-led programming, child care, and social situations. When hiring babysitters, I’m extra cautious about who I hire, nervous that if they see a mezuzah or his alef-bet art, it could impact the care he receives.

I’m more cautious in where I travel, and how I do it. His name, Ari, is often turned into “Aaron” if we don’t feel completely safe. Becoming a parent in a post-Oct. 7 world has made me hyperaware and hypervigilant. It’s been a big factor in why we left San Francisco and moved to the Chicago suburbs. I want my son and family to feel safe, proud, and comfortable being visibly Jewish. I can’t say what I’d have done differently, as I had my son six weeks after the world changed, but I do think my approach, anxieties, and priorities are different that what I had imagined them to be.”

Marjorie Ingall is a former columnist for Tablet, the author of Mamaleh Knows Best, and a frequent contributor to The New York Times Book Review.

“Sometimes our older kids—high-school and college-aged—have opinions that differ from ours. And that can be hard for a parent to take. But blowing up at your kid—or dismissing their ideas and thoughts out of pocket—only hurts your child and your relationship with them.

If you’re distressed by something your teenager says about Israel, Palestine, or Gaza, take some deep breaths. It’s OK to say, ‘I’m a little freaked out hearing you say this, but I’m glad you trust me enough to talk to me honestly. I need to sit with my thoughts for a bit.’ If you’re confident they have some facts wrong, find unbiased sourcing you trust, and return to the topic later, when you and your kid are both calm. You can say, ‘Hey, I’ve been thinking about our conversation earlier and wanted to talk further.’ If you can provide legit sources that counter something your kid said to you earlier, go for it.

But what’s more important is being able to talk about our differences as our kids grow up and their experiences of the world change. You’ve (I hope) laid a foundation for your offsprings’ values for the duration of their entire childhood; as they become adults, it’s incumbent on you to let them be adults and to make sure they know you’re a safe harbor no matter what.”

Elisa Albert is the author of three novels and a story collection. Her fiction and essays have appeared in n+1, The Guardian, The New York Times, New York Magazine, Lilith, Bennington Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, and Tablet. The Snarling Girl, now out from Clash Books, represents a decade’s worth of personal essays and literary criticism.

“I have a teenager, which is obviously a whole other kettle of fish. I’ve always talked to my son about his place in our lineage, about our heritage and our responsibilities and the extraordinary beauty and burden of being born a Jew, and the huge range of choices one has about what to do with that. But those conversations have become more emotionally pitched, more urgent, somehow dirtier and grittier and less theoretical.

We’ve talked a lot about why some ‘friends’ have disappeared from our home, people who had been invited to his bar mitzvah, people who had been at our festival and holiday tables, people whose behavior in the wake of Oct. 7 made it impossible for me to see them as ‘friends’ furthermore, and these are the hardest conversations of all. Trying to articulate why I can’t continue opening my heart/home to those who have been so carelessly ignorant or avoidant or strident or performative or complicit during this time ... this has been a heartbreaking admission on my part that I am not quite the person I have always said I wish to be. Going from being someone who left the doors unlocked (if not wide open) to someone who locks and bolts and alarms the doors ... it’s a weird incoherent reality that I can’t ‘make sense of’ for my kid.

It’s been a weird intersection of having a teenager (who sees right through me and calls out my bullshit all the time anyway) and simultaneously having my worldview shattered. Plus perimenopause! Awesome.”

Jill Kargman is an author, writer, and actress. She is the creator, writer, producer, and star of Bravo’s Odd Mom Out.

“All three of my kids have encountered antisemitism and blew them off. Luckily all three have thick skin, but they are grown up. If they had been little, I would have said the truth: that there always have been, and always will be people who don’t like Jews, and that says more about them than us, and we hold our heads high and know who we are—a loving, happy family and community and we don’t care what people think.

I have always taught them that we don’t accept criticism from those from whom we wouldn’t seek advice. A wolf doesn’t concern herself with the opinion of sheep.”