As I start planning Miriam’s bat mitzvah, I find myself feeling incredibly nostalgic for my older girls’ celebrations.
I remember beginning the planning for Rebecca’s bat mitzvah with such a clear vision of how I wanted it to feel. One thing I always tell families is that a b’nai mitzvah should reflect your family—what matters to you, what fits your rhythms, your values, your people.
For our family, being deeply connected to synagogue life made the most sense. My girls grew up going to services weekly, so centering everything around the synagogue felt right.
For Rebecca, we began with a Shabbat dinner after Friday night services for family and out-of-town guests. The next day, we hosted a luncheon following the morning service at the synagogue—surrounded by our congregational community, family, and friends.
We kept the décor simple and intentional. Paper flowers in vases, navy tablecloths (she had been obsessed with blue since she was a toddler), nothing over-the-top. The party itself was Broadway-themed. We started with appetizers, then Havdalah, followed by dancing, dinner, and dessert. The room was black with red accents, each table featured a Playbill as the centerpiece, and the place cards were designed like tickets. And of course—there was a photo booth, because I truly love a photo booth.
On Sunday, we hosted a goodbye brunch for family and out-of-town guests. What stays with me most is how complete it all felt. People who were important in our lives—some of whom Rebecca may not even remember—were there because they had known her since she was a baby. There was something deeply special about that.
Eva’s bat mitzvah came at a very different time. The world, unfortunately, was in COVID mode, and all the grand plans I had simply couldn’t happen. Her Torah portion was Noah’s Ark, and I had envisioned this beautiful luncheon with themed décor and a fruit display shaped like an ark. And then—none of it was possible.
As they say, we make plans and God laughs.
Instead, we did a short kiddush outside the synagogue. I did manage to have cookies made by my staff shaped like animals to hand out, which felt like a small win. Her party was held on a Sunday at an airy, open venue to help people feel safe. I worried it wouldn’t feel festive—but it absolutely did.
Eva’s theme was Star Wars. We had a balloon arch with a giant R2-D2 balloon, each table featured a lit vase with a Star Wars character, pretend light sabers, little figurines—so many fun details that felt very her. My staff made Star Wars–themed cookies, we had a candy and flavored popcorn bar, and themed drinks designed with the venue. And yes—another photo booth.
We danced, we laughed, and we celebrated. Even though not everyone we wanted felt comfortable attending, we made the most of it, and it was joyful in its own way.
Now, it’s Mimi’s turn.
I’m thinking through all the details—how to make the most of the moment, how to honor who she is, how to bring together the people who love her. Her save-the-date will be going out soon, and I’m already deep into ideas for the luncheon and the party.
I’m so proud of her hard work. Watching her practice, listening to her learn and grow—it’s all already so meaningful. I’m excited for the dancing, the celebration, and most of all, being surrounded by friends and family who love her.
One thing I’ve learned through all of this is that guest lists are hard. It’s painful to make decisions about who you can invite and who you can’t. For me, I’ve always felt that if someone is there to support and love you, the more the merrier. That kind of presence means everything.
And that, in the end, is what these moments are really about.
