Mazel Tov!

The rare opportunity to step into some high heels, put on a dress and bring out the bling presented itself last weekend when we attended the Bar Mitzvah of a friend's son. Being the Bar Mitzvah virgins that we are we weren't quite sure what to expect and were hoping it would be gentle. Turns out it was quite a jolly time and I only cried a few times.

The first time was during the slideshow. In every photo I saw Little A's face and him growing up way too fast. Thirteen seems like it should be far, far away. Another lifetime almost. But I've known JZ since he was barely older than Little A is now. And there he was. A laughing baby, then a messy toddler, moving on to a little boy, kid. A young man.

Composure regained, the creamy chocolate dessert with raspberry glaze and coffee makes dancing to Twist and Shout among all the adolescents seem less painful and awkward. This girl just doesn't dance at 3 o'clock in the afternoon with nothing stronger than herb tea in her system.

Then came the candle lighting ceremony. JZ's big sister made a throat-achingly lovely speech to her little brother and again, the tears rolled. To see this 16 year old girl so unashamedly profess her love, affection, and joy brought by her little brother (along with the annoying this or thats, of course...it's not all rainbows and unicorns all the time) was wonderful.

And then. The piéce de résistance was JZ's speeches. 13 poems. Cute, thirteen-year-old rhymes, each dedicated to someone special in his life. His sister, aunts, uncles, grandparents, soccer team, classmates. Parents. I was barely holding myself together at this point and then I think I actually blubbered. An ugly, chest-cracking, snotty-nosed sob.

Everybody needs a Bar Mitzvah.