It would be disingenuous to say that I wasn't warned. I was. I knew it would be like a wedding. Only with less sympathy from outsiders and coworkers, who don't know it's like a wedding. I had all summer to plan and prepare and keep myself out of the position I'm in now. But the summer was a rilly rilly long time ago. And now Emma's Bat Mitzvah is in 13 days. Holy fuck.
It's not that she won't be beautiful. She will. Or that she's not prepared. She is. As I keep telling her, there will only be like 5 people who know Hebrew at the whole thing anyway (and I am not one of them) so it really doesn't even matter if she messes up because she'll sound like she knows what she's talking about, regardless. But she won't mess up. She's beyond ready, and she'll be amazing. And she's excited for the chance to wear pretty new dresses and run around the temple with 22 (!) of her closest friends.
But yeah, I really don't have my shit together, which is becoming increasingly evident. I woke up at 5:15 this morning and I couldn't get back to sleep because I'm pretty sure we won't have adequate servers at the bat mitzvah luncheon. We have a caterer, and they're wonderful, but I can't remember what we told them about the number of servers we'll need, and they've never catered at the temple before. So I'm pretty sure that everyone'll be folding their own napkins and hewing their own grain for bread.
The temple's a pain in the ass because they basically expect that everyone'll use the same caterer, so they want ours to send in all these proofs of insurance and whatnot, and no one's talking to each other--they're all talking to me. I can't do anything about it so I try to relay messages.
I'm stressed because my computer died a week ago. My computer with all my lists and names and spreadsheets so I am convinced I'm forgetting about someone who's coming--probably a family of 10 who'll show up in a maxivan with no place to stay and no placecards for their kiddush meal.
I'm stressed because before my computer died I counted everyone up, and then I re-counted yesterday and came up with 10 more people for the lunch. Inexplicably. I guess I can't count. Good thing I'm a teacher. I can't remember now whether I told the temple to order enough napkins and tablecloths. (A task, btw, that I managed to complete at the last possible moment.)
Stressed because I still don't have a florist or a photographer. I have a line on both, but nothing nailed down. This could be bleak. And I have to figure out how to decorate a barn, where the dance party will be held. No clue what to do there. I don't even have shoes. Or a suitable dress. How can I be expected to decorate a barn?
Stressed because I'm quite sure I'm forgetting about 50 things I need to do. I can't take more than a day off to do it all. My basement smells like cat pee and I'm not sure when and how we can clear it out to clean it.
And I'm not really dealing with how we're gonna pay for it all, since we're maxed on our HELOC and I keep putting off the call to the bank to incrase it.
I've got a cold that's not going away and at this point, I'm pretty sure it's mutated into some kind of low-level infection that probably won't send me to the doctor but won't clear up by itelf, either. So instead of sleeping on a Sunday morning, I'm up, at 5:15, watching infomercials, but not even the good one about Colon Cleanse, and looking for scissors so I can cut out patterns of eggs with letters on them. Wondering if my twisting stomach is the result of too much wine on Friday, or my burgeoning sinus infection, or the stress of not knowing how this is all gonna work out.
It's gotten so I can't even fret about the election.
On Raising a Perfect Black Boy
3 years ago