Mazal Tov!

There is nothing like joyous occasions to recalibrate our lives, and thankfully, we've had many to celebrate this week. My husband finished his third exam, and has one to go. He's planning on taking it on Tuesday, and I'm planning to commemorate the completion of his first year of law school San Antonio style, with a big grito and a Mexican fiesta!

Well, not much of a fiesta. We're having another couple over for Margarita's and my special Combo Plate #3: Chiles rellenos, veggie enchiladas with tomatillo sauce, and veggie fajitas with homemade salsa, a side of tortilla soup, and guacamole. iArriba!

And because we're old, boring parents with three kids who will be sleeping when the guests arrive (please, God!), we'll be playing cards. It's a far cry from my younger, wilder days, but I'm not the party animal I used to be, either. A night of drinking, dancing, and carousing would near kill me. A night of eating, card playing, and talking about little league is about all my tired, old body can take. Sadly.

Today we had a most wonderful excuse for high caloric consumption and celebration: my dearest dancing diva's 5th birthday! I made a special Cuban Shabbat dinner for her. Arroz con pollo, black beans, fried plantains, and a sinfully delicious chocolate oatmeal cake with coffee frosting.

Gifts have been arriving for several weeks already. A gorgeous turquoise blue dress from one Grandma, a complete ballet ensemble with a purple tutu from the other grandparents, and her absolute favorite toy in the world, Polly Pockets, from the perfectly mirthful Tia Mirth. For those of you with a dearth of five year old girls, Polly Pockets are the toy of choice for the kindergarten crew. They are teeny-tiny soft rubber dolls with even teenyer-tinyer accessories, like shoes, purses, and microscopic jewelry. They are the bane of mothers with toddlers. Ever since my birthday girl received her treasured gift, she has been playing a game of cat-and mouse with her baby sister, trying to play with her Polly Pockets while keeping them away from Attila-the-Toddler.

Daddy also came home with gifts for his princess: a Dora tennis racquet with matching pink tennis balls. The birthday girl was thrilled with her "tennis set". I was a bit put off with the fact that Dora's face was on either side of the tennis ball. Perhaps it's Dora's striking resemblance to my future Shahar Peer. It seems a bit morbid to be whacking poor Dora upside the head.

He also got her Easy-Bake Oven accessories. She looked adorable in her apron, baker's hat, and oven mitten. She was also excited about the small silicone baking pans her daddy picked out. Only, there was one small problem: She doesn't have the Easy-Bake Oven they accessorize. "What?" her clueless Daddy asked. "She needs the oven?"

In case I forget: Thank you, Abuela, for the check. Your great granddaughter will love her Easy-Bake Oven.

The birthday girl received a phone call from her uncle in Minnesota. "What would you like for your birthday?" He asked.

"A Barbie toothbrush!" She answered brightly.

Birthdays drag on for weeks in our family. On Monday I'll be bringing cupcakes to her nursery school for an in-class party. Friday is her Hebrew birthday, and we'll certainly commemorate it in a small way. On Mother's day, she'll have her "official" birthday party at her ballet school. A dozen or more little ballerinas will be flitting and twirling about in their pink, sparkly tutus.

I'm not much of a girly-girl, but I can't wait. There is something so magical and sweet about little girls living out their ballerina fantasies. Perhaps it's the knowledge that it won't last forever. Soon they'll grow into pouty, jaded, edgy teenagers, and the days of barbies, pollies, and tutus will be replaced by snarkier, snider role models. I'm not sure I relish the metamorphosis. In the meantime, I will endeavor to enjoy her dreamy innocence for as long as it lasts.

The most exciting celebration this week is the birth of my new niece! My big sister was thoughtful enough to give birth to her second child, a tiny little black-haired beauty, in the hours before Shabbat, so that I could enjoy the good news. I wish a lifetime of happiness, good health, blessings, and naches to my sister, my brother-in-law, and my nephew. May this new light bring your family joy and pride. Hamza, hamza, mashallah!

And of course, Happy Lag B'Omer to all!

Laissez les bon temps rouler (slowly)!