Post BarMitzvah Let Down.
I am in the funkiest of funks.
The bottom of the pit.
I feel like I have no purpose.
No life, nothing to talk about…nothing to do.
Post Bar Mitzvah Let Down. Yup.
But I’m sure all y’all are fucking thrilled. I know, I was a nightmare. You hated me. Wanted to avoid me at all cost. I was totally self-absorbed, and completely focused on all things party related. And I’m not going to apologize, because it was OFF THE FLIPPING HOOK! It was fucking AWESOME! omg. My kid rocked the Bimah, and made me so proud! I swear, he exceeded all my expectations. Not that I had any, because I didn’t. But I loved every single minute of it. I just sat back, and soaked it all in. I didn’t yell at the Rabbi. Or grab the microphone from the DJ. I didn’t attack the dancers, or reteach the Wobble how I thought it should be done. I just enjoyed myself…and enjoyed watching Jonah enjoy himself. I have never seen him so happy. It was the best day ever.
And guess what? We all got along. It was a “snow globe” weekend. I couldn’t have asked for better, really. I kept waiting for something to go wrong. I know, not like me to be so negative. But what were the chances that not a single thing would get screwed up? I dreamed about shit going bad. Like my Dad forgetting the kippahs. Or Mark, making some stupid remark to Mr. T. Or me tripping walking up the steps of the Bimah. Or, running out of alcohol. But no! Nothing. Nada. My Mother-in-law was gracious, and sweet. She hugged me up, and we talked like old times. And Mark came to dinner with my family, and I went to his house for the out-of-towner dinner. It was strange, being in my house…well, Mark’s house…with all my family. It felt weird being there, and it not being mine anymore. My Mom was sad, I begged her not to get emotional. I reminded her it was only a house. And as I was showing my friends around, I thought, why am I even doing this? What’s the point? Ugh. My heart was in my stomach. But it is what it is. Life goes on. And dinner turned out to be super fun. We ate pork. Lots and lots of pork. A Pre-Mitzvah Pork Party. Gotta love the South.
We all ate swine, and put our differences aside for Jonah. We partied over pig. And we ate homemade popsicles. I ordered them, duh.
I was proud of everyone. My parents, Mark’s parents. We did good. It wasn’t easy for anyone, I know. But we all rose to the occasion, and put Jonah first. Damn straight. Isn’t that what we should always be doing? Putting our kids first? At least during the important times in their lives. The momentous times. When they expect us to act like the adults, not the kids. Trust me, there were a few moments I wanted to pop an extra Xanax. But I made it through…and I am proud of me. Dammit, I am fucking good. And I also made it through my speech, barely. I looked up once, at Jonah…and he said, “Mom, don’t cry.” So I didn’t. But damn, was I close.
May 24, 2015, came so fast, didn’t it? And now…its over. And I am so tired. No, I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for a week. A month. But I can’t. There is no time for P.B.M.L.D. I have lots to do…to catch up on. Shit, I have laundry, and bills…and emails to return. But most importantly, I have ANOTHER Bar Mitzvah to plan! April 1, 2017, is Zac’s date, and I have got to get started! DJ, booked. Venue, booked. Party Planner, booked. I think I’ll send out the Save the Date next month. ;)