On Sunday, my soon-to-be 13-year-old daughter joined me at the final day of the New York Baby Show, working various jobs during the day but mostly helping to greet people–as in thousands of new and expecting families–as they entered Pier 92, at 52nd Street and the West Side Highway. I appreciated that she voluntarily came along, because she’s been on my mind a lot lately, though I rarely get to spend much time with her that’s not part of our normal routines. Elena will have her bat mitzvah in a week and a half, and this is a very overwhelming time for everyone in the family. Just this morning my nine-year-old son complained about having to be pulled out school later today to take family photos at the temple. Believe me: He never complains about being pulled out of school for any reason. It’s that kind of time.
It’s custom for the parents to say a few words (or in some cases more than few words) about their honored child at some point in the course of the bar or bat mitzvah celebration. So here and there I’ve been thinking about my daughter and what I want to say about her, and, invariably, I start getting little teary even though this is just me thinking to myself. Not all that surprisingly, I guess. I keep re-visiting the day the day of her birth and the moment I first held her. She had to be rushed to the neo-natal critical care unit because my wife had a slight temperature, and they wanted to monitor Elena for infection. The nurse was like, “Here she is. Gotta run.” She turned out to be fine–more than fine.
I spend a lot of time being a parent, which, as of all of you know, is hardly easy. And yet, I think it is my favorite responsibility in the world. What a gift! I have a lot of people to thank next Saturday, but Elena most of all.
Eric Messinger is Editor of New York Family. He can be reached at [email protected]
