Best Bat Mitzvah Banter

The first time my now teenage daughter went to a bar mitzvah, she was barely five. It was one of the greatest events of her little life. 

She wore a diminutive Dior dress (a showroom sample my enterprising mother found in New York), she had an "updo." She sat at a table with other kids — and away from her parents. The bar mitzvah celebration included a DJ, dancers, stuffed animals, sunglasses, crazy hats and more. As we drove back to our hotel late that night, she fantasized aloud about her own bat mitzvah.

Um ... minor problem.

"We're not Jewish," we explained.

As elated as she had been with all the festivities, that's how deflated she was at the news. It seemed quite unfair if you asked her. Not that she really wanted to learn Hebrew or read the Torah, but the party part? Yes, quite unfair.

Since then, we've been to several bar and bat mitzvahs together. Sometimes we've even participated in the celebration — we lit candles for our nanny's two girls, and my daughter wrote and read a friendship speech two years ago.

Even though my daughter once longed for a bat mitzvah of her very own, she's definitely in awe (and a bit intimidated) by all the work that leads up to our young friends' readings in temple. Yet, in all the years, I've never seen a bar mitzvah boy or bat mitvah girl flub their lines. Even kids who are shy or quiet in their everyday life rise to this important occasion. (We did have one small girl who broke down in tears while she made a little speech about how much she appreciated her parents and sister. But, she kept going. And, honestly, it was all the more meaningful.)

The 13-year olds aren't the only ones expected to speak either. Whether in the temple or at the spectacular after-party, moms and dads (and sometimes siblings) share their thoughts about how hard their child has worked and how proud they are of him or her. These are emotional tributes at an emotional time. Because we generally know the family, we usually feel honored to be part of it all.

But they rarely make us laugh. Out loud. A lot.

Last week, at a spectacular bat mitzvah party (after a truly impressive performance in temple), we were treated to a bit of cross-generational humor that I'd like to share with you.

Our young friend's father made his way to the dance floor (no easy feat, given the presence of smoke machines and laser lights, and waitresses passing sushi on platters of dry ice) and educated us all.

After the usual remarks of awe and appreciation about his daughter's accomplishment that weekend, he proceeded to fill us all in on some of the key words and phrases she and her friends use to communicate. Ever the successful businessman, he even had a PowerPoint deck. 

TBH                                            To be honest
Ravé                                           Rave or party
Optimus banterous                     Talk of the town
Q Scandalous                             Lots of fun
Tha Bae's                                   Your friends
BTW                                           By the way
NGL                                            Not going to lie
Dungers                                      Outfit
Totes swag                                 Really great
LUSMS                                       Love you so much

This being jolly old England, it was particularly fun to note any variances between the UK and US. (At times, I felt like I was learning text talk by way of Harry Potter. It was smashing.)

He ended the speech by putting all of it together in a special message for his daughter, which he read aloud to the delight of partygoers old and (especially) young:

YO, TBH, YOUR RAVÉ WILL BE V OPTIMUS BANTEROUS. Q SCANDALOUS WITH THAT BAE'S.

BTW, YOUR DUNGERS IS TOTES SWAG. LUSMS!

The party was, most definitely optimus banterous. All the more so, TBH, thanks to our young friend's proud papa.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com. 

Headgear for Heading to London

I haven't posted for a while, but I have a really good excuse. I was out of the country.

(How I love saying that! As someone who didn't make it across the pond until I was 25, it has been a source of adult delight that I'm fortunate enough to visit other countries from time to time. And particularly wonderful that I'm able to take my teenage daughter.)

Two years ago, my daughter and I went to London for the amazing bat mitzvah of my best friend from high school's oldest daughter. Ten days ago, we headed back for the equally amazing (yet utterly different) bat mitzvah of the girl's younger sister.

Although the celebrations were unique, we experienced some distinct similarities. In both cases, we had only about 36 hours between the end of school and the start of our trip.

Can you say ... "Stress!"

It would have been bad enough to face two finals Wednesday prior to a flight on Thursday, right? Wrong. My daughter had to add a concert in Boston (One Republic with The Script — two of your favorites, right? Mine too. Not.) and a trip to the stable. There was no way she could actually fly across the Atlantic Ocean for two weeks without saying a sentimental good-bye to her trusty steed. In between all of her commitments, I needed to do laundry, wrap up some client projects, write an essay about the 4th of July, and pick up my sister who was coming in from New York to housesit.

"British Air, take me away!"

Everything was more or less under control, when I heard my daughter pull into our driveway. She immediately called up the stairs with what sounded like worry — no, it was more like panic — in her voice. She realized as she was walking into the house that she had grabbed another girl's riding helmet instead of her own. No big deal?

No. Big deal! Big, big deal.

After our bat mitzvah weekend in London, my daughter was scheduled to fly to Barcelona, where she would be riding with our friend (and recent exchange student) at one of Spain's premier dressage centers. There was no way she was going without a helmet and, sadly, there was no way she could simply borrow the one she had inadvertently borrowed. It didn't fit.

Of course, my daughter needed a shower and hadn't even begun to pack. And, we were getting precariously close to our departure time. So, ever the quick-thinker, I put my sister in charge of the duffel bag and drove to the stable myself with the purloined helmet in hand. Thirty minutes there, thirty minutes back. (Sixty minutes total that I really didn't have.) Crisis averted.

I'd warned my sister that they needed to work efficiently, but also think through everything carefully. My daughter's agenda included four dress-up bat mitzvah events (two nice dinners, services, and a wild party at a Camden Town club, complete with DJs, dancing girls, smoke machines and lasers), comfortable shorts and tops for sightseeing, riding clothes and gear, and beachwear. (We've had some packing issues in the past. Too many of this, too few of that. Most recently, it was an ensemble for an evening at the theatre: heels, a dressy top and trendy belt all meant to go with a particular skirt that somehow hadn't made it into the suitcase.)

But, I was pleasantly surprised. I arrived home (expecting chaos) and found a number of well-organized piles ready for inspection. Everything fit (including two tubs of frozen cookie dough for our Spanish friend — don't ask) and we weren't even over our weight limit. Within the hour, our driver arrived and we headed to Logan airport. 

We had somehow pulled it off (yet again). 

Or so we thought ...

Next post: "Footwear Follies" or "The Battle of the Boots."

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com. 

The Teen's Speech

We received the first "Save the Date" email over a year ago. Our good friends who live in London not only invited us to the bat mitzvah of their eldest girl, but my daughter was asked to make a special "friendship speech."


My husband bowed out of the journey; we had an annual sailing trip scheduled for the following week, and it was just too much time away. But, my daughter and I were really excited to go. Although she had been to London before, she was very young and remembers just bits and pieces (like the pool at our Cotswolds hotel and the trampoline in our friends' garden). Our only worry was whether or not she would be out of school yet. With even a handful of snow days to make up, we would have had to fly to the U.K. Friday night, attend services and the party Saturday, and fly back Sunday. Ugh!


Luckily, we had a snow-free winter — a rare and wonderful thing for New England. I told the bat mitzvah girl that it was a good sign. (I didn't mention anything about global warming.)


As I've already stated, we have known about the bat mitzvah and the speech for more than a year. So, my daughter, being a typical teenager, planned exactly what dress she would wear, exactly which shoes, exactly how she would do her hair. 


When did she write her speech? 


That would be exactly on the plane going over. On my iPad.


In her defense, we had already made a list of all the things she wanted to mention. She had also agreed that a poem would be the best approach. But, as a mom who likes to do things well in advance of deadlines, I was starting to stress.


As per usual, my daughter pulled it off. (I don't know why I'm surprised. Her entire middle school career was built on last minute papers and projects for which she somehow always earned A's.) She wrote the poem quickly, and I proofread it and made some suggestions. I did insist that she rehearse it in our hotel room a few times. Other than that, she had it covered. (Her exact words would be: "It's covered, Mo-o-om." Complete with an eye roll. But, I digress.)


Our young friend read her Torah portion beautifully in services and the party was fantastic. There were elaborate candy-covered topiary centerpieces on the tables. (In a brilliant move, paper bags were passed out as the evening ended so that these works of edible art could be broken down and taken home to enjoy later.) There was a DJ with two back-up dancers, a photo booth (which, I have to say, was enjoyed by many an adult as well as the kids), sparkle tattoos, sunglasses, hats. And, the entire gala took place in the stunning St. Pancras Hotel, a place so grand and glorious and otherworldly that it was used as a set for the Harry Potter movies.


When it was her turn, my daughter got up, took the microphone, and though she confessed later to being a little nervous, she was splendid. All-in-all, the teen's speech — and the celebration itself — was a great success.


Here now, for your reading pleasure is ... 

"Ode to a Bat Mitzvah Girl"

On a New York morning in 1975,

(Many years before we were even alive,)

Our mothers met with very little fuss.

Think about it — they were the same age as us!

They were forever friends, just like the song,

Through colleges, weddings and some years in Hong Kong

My mom heard you'd arrived, she just had to meet you;

It would take a whole weekend to properly greet you.

She flew off to London, didn't take me with her.

(Excuse me, what am I, chopped liver?)

But, that didn't stop us from becoming fast friends!

In New York and Massachusetts, our playdates had no end!

In 2003, we visited — oh, what a scene!

The London Eye, pony rides and that keen trampoline.

I was only 6, you just 5 and your sister was 3,

But, no doubt about it — she kept up with you and me!

Pretty soon, you came to visit us in Marblehead.


We had loads of fun, all three of us in one bed.


And that first trip was the time I absolutely swore,


Nothing could hold us — not a lock, not a door.


I would give you a midnight tour of my house;


You and your sis promised to be quieter than a mouse.


But through the duration of that entire six-day trip


I never once hosted such a tour, what a gyp!


My alarm clock malfunctioned without a single qualm,


Was it fate, was it luck or was it ... my mom?


We also went to the club to swim in the pool.


Oh how good the water felt, so nice and so cool!


The beach was such fun, the ocean great too,


With all of its colors, deep greens and sea blue.


We all cruised the harbor, you even drove the boat.


Trust me, you drove better than my dad, that old goat.


The many years have merged into what feels like just a few.


Each year, we have changed and we just grew and grew.


Through thick and through thin, we have stayed special pals,


From the U.K., from the U.S., we are fab-u-lous gals!


We may have our differences, we may have our sames.

(How cool you and my mom share your first names!)


So whether I say tomato or you say to-mah-to,


I say potato and you say po-tah-to,


There's just one last thing to say on your bat mitzvah weekend.


Mazel tov, mazel tov, I'm so glad you're my friend!