If I could make a shalom zachar, Shabbos bris, and pidyon haben during Yom Tov, could a bar mitzvah be so much worse?

Everyone said my son’s bar mitzvah on Shabbos Shuvah was unbelievable. Not just “unbelievable” as in “incredible,” but also “unbelievable,” as in, “Did that actually just happen?!” Because on that Shabbos, Hashem shook up everything in my life to show me what really matters (and what doesn’t). And I’m still grateful.

Baruch Hashem, my bechor was born on Alef Tishrei. For 13 long years, I knew that I would be making a Yamim Noraim simchah. But I wasn’t panicked — after all, if I could make a shalom zachar, Shabbos bris, and pidyon haben during Yom Tov, could a bar mitzvah be so much worse?

Apparently, yes.

There are complicated logistical issues when planning any bar mitzvah. Now just ramp it up 20 notches when you’ve never done it before, you live in Texas (read: without Amazing Savings), your ex-husband lives in Florida with his new family, and both of your extended families are flying in for the simchah.

Finding airport rides and housing for 50? I’ve got this! Making seating arrangements to accommodate complex family dynamics? Baruch Hashem for good stress! Every time I joyfully announced that I was printing the “final list” of guest housing and seating, someone else decided to join us. Al tiftach peh l’satan! I’m not complaining, not at all, but couldn’t they have told me before I printed table charts?!

Stress was my baseline. My students kept asking me if I was feeling well because, “You don’t look so good.” My friends and fellow teachers started to speak in soothing tones to me. “Everything’s going to be okay,” they repeated, while offering to host, cook, bake, and run carpools. What I really needed was about four more hours in my day, but evidentially they don’t sell that on Amazon (I did, however, buy just about everything else from there).