Seven months ago my son Yeshaya had a bar mitzvah. Everything went right, besides everything that didn’t. It was an incredible bar mitzvah weekend filled with family, love and friendship. But let me tell you, it had its hiccups. Lots and lots of hiccups.

First, I wasn’t sure my mom was going to make it because of impending war threats. She did, thank G-d. So we got that worry out of the way when she arrived at the airport a few days prior..

It was the first time I was making a bar mitzvah party because for my older son, Tzadok, we went away with all our extended family for a long weekend to a tzimmer up north, but didn’t make an official party. It was complex to arrange, but contained and overall manageable.

The time around, I planned and planned…and G-d laughed and laughed.

So a week before the weekend, my photographer called and said he couldn’t attend the event; he was sick in the hospital. I had booked him months earlier because he was our wedding photographer and we loved his pictures- and him! I began the rush to find an available photographer, for the right price, for the following Saturday night. When I fianlly found someone I thought, “Good, I got the one thing that goes wrong for a simcha out of the way. Everything will be smooth sailing from here.” Right? Of course not.

I had ordered a suit for Yeshaya a few weeks before from Next, but it was too small when it arrived. I returned it, did the math and reordered a larger size knowing it would arrive on time. Which it did. But now it was too big. So with about 10 days left, I brought it to my friend Karen who is a seamstress. The following day, her mother Mimi, who I have known for years and is very dear to my heart, went to the hospital for something minor; she would be home in a few days. Nothing to worry about.

Then, the Friday a week before the bar mitzvah, my dearest cousin Melissah, who passed away this past October at 46 from cancer, became a Savta in the next world; her daughter Ariella had a baby boy here in Israel! I did the math and thought how was I ever going to make it to the bris the Friday before the bar mitzvah. I was hosting 30 people for Shabbat, cooking all the meals, and making a kiddush after shul, with the party being that same Saturday night. I decided to go to Sha’arei Tzedek that Motzei Shabbat to visit Ariella and the baby just in case I wouldn’t make it to the bris, and while I was already in the hospital, I thought to go pop in and say hi to Mimi, who I actually befriended many years before her daughter Karen, but that’s another story. I called Karen over and over and texted her asking what floor was her mother on? What room? Which machlaka? She didn’t answer. I thought to myself that she’ll be home in a few days, and hopefully she’ll even make it to the bar mitzvah. I got in my car and as soon as I left the parking lot, Karen texted me where her mother was. But it was so late and I had work the next morning, so I went home.

The next few days, I kept calling to see when she could finish the altering. She was busy with her mom but she assured me it would be done before shabbat.

Then the Thursday night before the big weekend, we decided to go out to dinner with my mom, but I was very jumpy and overwhelmed. Karan still hadn’t done the altering, and I wasn’t done cooking for shabbat, and in my rush, while........

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