It's been said that when it comes to raising children, the days go slow and the years go fast. As I find myself in the thick of planning my second son's bar mitzva, these words ring all too true. But who has time for sentimentality when you've got to pull off a colossal simha in less than a year?

The first item on my party-planning agenda was to secure the entertainment.

"Bar Mitzvas R Us," said a perky voice on the telephone.

"I'd like to know if you have availability on April 7, please," I inquired.

"2009 or 2010?"

"2008," I answered, panic rising.

"Ha!" said the voice, no longer so perky. "Good luck."

Fifteen calls and 14 rejections later, I'd managed to land a living, breathing master of ceremonies who'd miraculously just had a cancellation for my date.

The next morning I was sipping coffee with an MC named Rhythm — a hulking, albeit friendly, man who I can only assume plays in the NFL when not planning parties — to iron out the details.

"Do you want to do the Motzi?" asked Rhythm.

"Yes," I answered, "of course."

"What about a candle-lighting?'

"Umm, I'm not sure."

Was I interested in the Birkat Hamazon? Feather boas? The hora? The Chicken Dance?

As Rhythm threw me nonstop options, I entered a transformational spin, like Lynda Carter on the old Wonder Woman TV show. When I stopped whirling, I saw myself in Rhythm's shoes, enormous though they might be. I grasped the bizarreness that this 300-pound linebacker was so incredibly well versed in terms like Motzi and Birkat (and was also using them in conjunction with terms like feather boa and Chicken Dance).

I could see what Rhythm — and the rest of the gentile world for that matter — must think looking at the modern American bar mitzva and how he might interpret how we Jewish parents choose to celebrate these meaningful religious rites of passage.

On the heels of this revelation came an unsettling flashback to a Web site entry I'd encountered while researching party themes. It was written by a non-Jewish mother about her son's experience at a friend's bar mitzva. Here it is, slightly abbreviated but 100 percent true:

Best Bar Mitzva Party Theme: Terminator

My son William was recently invited to his friend Josh's bar mitzva. William had never been to a bar mitzva before and he's still talking about it.

The invitation was a videotape of Josh dressed like the Terminator and doing an Arnold Schwarzenegger impression: "Come to my bar mitzva. Or Else!"

When I dropped William off at the five-star hotel ballroom, everything was decorated to look like metal. There were robots standing guard with blinking eyes and moving arms; destroyed tanks and cars strewn about (rented from a movie prop house); and inflatable jungle gyms and slides, all in camouflage colors. There was even a life-sized Schwarzenegger cutout for guests to sign.

Josh made his grand entrance on a "T2" motorcycle, his bar mitzva gift from his parents!

Following Hamotzi, a live band played techno music. Josh did a really cool robot dance.

During the candle-lighting ceremony, Josh lit 13 candles with a butane lighter shaped like a Terminator rifle.

At midnight, Josh's parents announced that a collector's Terminator action figure was hidden somewhere in the ballroom. While everyone searched, a Schwarzenegger look-alike dressed like the Terminator walked in. Every kid got a picture taken with the surprise guest.

William had such a great time that he asked if he could have a bar mitzva, too.

Fueled with newfound perspective (and an unmistakable wave of nausea), I thanked Rhythm for his time and made a dash for my bookshelf to retrieve my dog-eared copy of The Book of Jewish Values to see what the ever-wise and rational Rabbi Joseph Telushkin might have to say about the situation. He didn't let me down.

"Out of the desire not to appear cheap or unloving to their children, many...feel forced to spend far more on [bar mitzva] parties than they can or want to," writes Telushkin. "Furthermore lavish parties often end up diminishing, sometimes even eliminating, the religious significance of the bar mitzva. For many of the celebrants, what counts is the ‘bar,' not the ‘mitzva.'"

What we desperately need, he says, are some "wealthy moral heroes…prominent, affluent Jews in our largest Jewish communities to throw a simple bar or bat mitzva celebration, one in which the party is very pleasant and celebratory, but not lavish…. [T]he good they would do for their fellow Jews would be almost incalculable."

In my community, I've seen a few brave parents heed this critical call with wonderful results, and I — post-Wonder Woman-style transformational spin and faithful Telushkin fan — plan to do the same, even if I might fall a tad short of affluent, pillar-of-the-Jewish-community status at present.

At this stage in the process, I'm still not sure where this journey will take my family. But I do know where it won't.