Sometimes moms go to extreme measures to get a little down time for themselves. Aside from the solicited kindness that occurs on special occasions, such as her birthday, anniversary, or Mother’s Day, women feel like they need a good excuse to be spoiled. In fact, recently I figured out how to indulge in almost a full week of pampering without leaving the comfort of my own couch. All it takes is the surgical removal of an organ. Luckily, I can live without my gallbladder. (more…)

In honor of upcoming Mother’s Day, I dedicate this week’s column to all moms, especially mine because without her I wouldn’t here. If not for my mom, I wouldn’t be born. Otherwise, my soul might have ended up in the physical body of a dolphin or an eagle or a peasant farmer in Mexico. But I wouldn’t be me.

So, thanks mom. Thanks for everything you’ve done to me—I mean for me—over the years. (more…)

A birthday is a cause for celebration, and when the birthday is the sixtieth anniversary of the State of Israel, the party takes on a life of its own. Even if you can’t get to Jerusalem next week to watch a nationwide laser light show and hear Barbara Streisand belt out “Avinu Malkeinu” live on stage, or to Radio City Music Hall in New York to enjoy another star-studded gala, Kaleidoscope Israel brings the Jewish State right here to St. Louis. (more…)

Passover is all about telling (or retelling) a great story. The Passover story, in particular, is about the history of our people. The story starts out thousands of years ago when the Jews were slaves and built ancient cities for Egyptian kings called Pharaohs. The Egyptians were worried that the Jewish slaves would become too strong and fight for their freedom, so Pharaoh ordered the drowning of all male babies born to the Jews. To save her newborn son, one Jewish woman placed her baby in a basket and asked her daughter Miriam to take him to the reeds in the river and hide him. Pharaoh’s daughter found the baby and named him Moses, which means “drawn from the water,” and unknown to the princess, appointed Moses’ real mother to care for him while he lived in Pharaoh’s palace.

Sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it? (more…)

Passover is a favorite Jewish holiday. Think about it—adults eat all night long if they want, and the kids are allowed to literally act like animals at the table. I’m referring to the 10 plagues, of course. In my family, the Seder is simply not complete without farfel and frogs. online pharmacycialislevitrasomaviagra
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If there’s one thing I learned at Jack’s bar mitzvah, besides never wear new shoes without breaking them in first, is that I can’t control some things in life. For example, I can’t control the weather and whether the rain will allow Jack’s baseball friends to attend his party. Also, I can’t control the health of people and whether they will be sick or well enough to physically be there for the special time in my son’s life. (more…)

By the time you read this column, Jack’s bar mitzvah will be over. No more sleepless nights playing musical chairs with seating charts. For more than a year now, I’ve been writing about this upcoming Jewish milestone in my son’s life. What am I going to talk about now—matza brei? (more…)

For those of you who watched my camping webisode on www.inthemotherhood.com, I just want to make one thing clear: I DO NOT have a tattoo anywhere on my body, unlike the portrayal of Leah Remini’s character. Actually, I have a freckle on my—never mind. Hollywood will do anything for a laugh.

Okay, back to reality and the bar mitzvah. As the big day approaches, my dining room table disappears underneath a hodgepodge of paper goods, yarmulkes, party favors, platters, snacks, reply cards, place cards, and so many Judaic items that I’m ready to open up my own gift shop. (more…)

One day I’m an ordinary stay-at-home mom trying to plan an extraordinary bar mitzvah and the next week I’m a star-struck writer mingling with celebs and watching one of my stories come to life as part of a hilarious webisode series filmed in Hollywood. Hey, that’s showbiz. (more…)

As the expiration date on the gallon milk jug gets closer to the day of Jack’s bar mitzvah, the reality of this major lifecycle event hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m not old enough to have a teenage son, especially one dressed in a designer suit, silk tie, and a mezuzah necklace. As Jack polishes his prayers everyday, I frantically run in circles and make changes to the guest list, menu, party favors, music, programs, decorations, entertainment, speeches, biographical slide show, and, of course, my outfits. Every chance I get, I rearrange the seating chart like I’m playing musical chairs.

Obviously, I’m in bar mitzvah mode full force right now. Nothing can distract me from my list of things to do. Not even the flu. Then suddenly, without any warning, my party planning comes to a screeching halt. That’s when I find out that I’m going to Hollywood, California, for the trip of a lifetime. (more…)