T he day was a bustle of visitors arriving and Aviva smiled and simpered and graciously accepted compliments: “You look amazing! I’d never believe you just gave birth!” “Your home looks stunning. As if you didn’t have a newborn and eight other kids to take care of!” “Where in the world did you find time to bake like this for the vach-nacht?”
Aviva flung her newly set sheitel over her shoulder and smiled smiled smiled. The compliments had never been so well-deserved. She made sure to demur modestly to pat Chavi on the shoulder and insist her eldest daughter deserved much of the credit. But she knew her whole family knew that it was her hard work fueled by sheer sleepless determination, her utter insanity, as Zevi called it (and she privately agreed) that had created this glistening glamorous welcome for their arriving family.
Zevi had shaken his head and stayed pointedly out of the endless discussions about bris décor and menu taking place between Aviva and Naama with Chavi’s occasional input.
With both their families from out of town everyone had arrived early to be there for the big event. Now finally they had all come the vach-nacht was tonight and everything was perfectly in place. With a heavy dose of makeup and even heavier dose of caffeine Aviva had managed to disguise the damage of sleep deprivation. Little tzaddik’l was decked out in his pre-bris best currently being fussed over by Zevi’s mother and sisters.
