Mazel Tov.

Back when I was 19, I moved in with a family friend and became kind of like a live-in nanny for her family. My friend was going through a divorce and was in need of some extra hands around the house. -Which worked out great for me because I was nineteen and waaaay too badass to be living at home anyway.

The four kids- David 8, Ketzel 6, Joey 4, and Mouche 1.5 (nicknames may or may not have be used)- were just like little extensions of my own family (except they're Jewish, French, and obviously have different parents).


(Photo courtesy of Ketz' facebook album. I totally stole it unbeknownst to her- Thanks, Ketz. Also- Sorry Mouche, you weren't born yet.)

For a year a half, I had one faux little brother and three faux little sisters. Being nineteen, I didn't really appreciate it so much then because it was more like "eh... these kids I live with". But keeping in touch with them over the years has really made me grateful for the opportunity I had to live with this special family. If I'd never lived there, I would have never:

-Shared disco music with Joey (Fly Robin, Fly was a fav)

-Walked in on a naked 8 yr old David sitting on the kitchen table and not caring who saw.

-Accused Ketzel of stealing my $2 bills, to which she adamantly denied it (and later on I found them in her jewelry box).

-Greeted Mouche every morning only to receive a look of horror like "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHERE'S MY MOM?!?!" day after day for a year and a half.

Over the years, I've been lucky enough to attend bar/ bat mitzvahs for my faux fam. This past weekend was a big fat Jewish deal though. It was the last mitzvah: My little Mouchie.



AwwWwWw... Little Joey and Mouchie... (I know, it's crappy scan. If you click on the pic, it should enlarge, but don't quote me on that. I don't know how to use that fancy Photoshop booshet, okay?)

For anyone who's never been to a Bar/ Bat Mitzvah, it's a basically a rite of passage that takes place around 13 years of age. There's two hours of sitting, standing, sitting, standing, following along in a holy book (heads up for non Jews: books in Hebrew read from back to front. You can thank me later for this one the next time you're in temple.), you hear stories about the celebrated person, and they get some lessons about how to be a respectable member of the community. It's actually a really cool thing to see and be a part of.

Mouche and family members at the bima.

Four generations at the ceremony- VERY cool.

This is when my stomach starts the celebration- challah bread (Holla!) and Manischewitz.

Kiddush Luncheon including tuna salad, bagels, fruit salad, egg salad, and cheEeEsee bliIiIntz!

Mazel cake (I'm still kicking myself for leaving without a slice).

Great grandma keepin it real.

They really are SuUuUuch nice people.

Omgggg, I can't believe all these kids are so big now. Especially that bigfoot on the far right (otherwise known as naked-8-yr-old-on-the-kitchen-table).

After the ceremony and luncheon, the family also had a party in the evening. My favorite part of any party- Always the food. My plate kind of looks like a disaster, but trust me, it was delicious. Highlights: mozzarella balls, chicken bites, and hummus.

Oh hai, cheez. Fancy meeting you here...

Dinner was followed by a make-your-own sundae bar. I managed to avoid this luxury because I'd already pigged out twice that day. Also, because I didn't think this would be a good time to have lactose intolerance butthole explosions.

Party guests cutting le rug.

Well, it's not really a party until someone ends up with an ice pack on their head.

Brother and sister dance-off.

Another set of "kids" whose bar/ bat mitzvahs I went to.

All in all, a great day spent with people who are beautiful, inside and out. (Technically, I've never seen the insides of any of these people, but I'm assuming they're just as beautiful as the outsides.)

Also, this weekend reminded me how olllllllld and short I am.