There are few aspects of raising children in New York that I feel downright depressed about. When people who have never lived in the city ask me how I can have children without a backyard, I point to Central Park. “843 acres and I’m not responsible for any upkeep,” I say.

And when people ask if it’s safe to raise children in New York, my husband – the transplant – pipes up and tells them that our apartment has never been broken into, our car has never been stolen, and he has never felt unsafe.

But at a bat mitzvah a few weeks ago, held overseas, I got a knot in my stomach when I compared it to similar affairs in New York. It’s hard to believe, but the inappropriate levels of lavishness and extravagance that characterize today’s festivities make the celebrations during the roaring 1980s, when my brothers and I celebrated this Jewish milestone, seem positively tame by comparison.

To be fair, I really shouldn’t single out the bar or bat mitzvah experience. I’ve had similar pangs at children’s birthday parties and sweet sixteen celebrations. When the printed invitation arrives for a child’s second birthday party, I feel the knot, as well as when I hear of a 16-year-old holding her bash at Tribeca Rooftop, or some other fashionable downtown loft.

For all the sophistication we offer our children by raising them in New York – the exposure to the museums, the independence offered by public transportation, the opportunities to serve those less fortunate – frequently our children are surrounded by those who are all too fortunate.

“Some people are easily spending six figures these days on their kids’ bar mitzvah celebrations,” said a friend of mine who is planning her son’s party in the fall. “At each party the DJ is blaring, but there are no kids on the dance floor. They’re too busy playing the endless games in the other room. There are boxing rings and simulated ski machines and virtual car races and special movie-making machines,” she said.

I’ve long since adjusted to a 13-year-old’s precocious outfits and eagerness to down a plate of sashimi. What strikes me today is the length to which parents go to make their children feel like a million bucks.

“Everything is over the top,” said one mother. “The parents make these full-length films about their kids. There are scripts and professional movie makers involved. Some people even hire real rap stars to perform. One week the kids are all going to the Rainbow Room. The next it’s the Mandarin Oriental. No offense, but these kids read seven lines from the Torah,” she added.

At the bat mitzvah overseas, the children line danced and goofed around to music played by three guys with a keyboard, a microphone, and some outdated DJ equipment. They played limbo for more than half an hour, and then spontaneously played a game of seeing who could jump over the limbo stick as it was raised higher and higher.

The master of ceremonies was the older sister, who warmly and enthusiastically introduced a few friends and family members. They spoke about the girl’s maturity and intellect. Her friends listened quietly. Apparently in New York people have actually begun to hire speechwriters to help make the requisite rhymes that introduce each of the 13 people who are called during the candle-lighting ceremony.

Overseas, in the hall adjacent to the synagogue where we ate dinner and celebrated the girl’s achievement, there was a quiet spirit of celebration that came from the people in the room, not the hired entertainers or pounds of sprinkled confetti or seven-piece band. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of message New York parents think they are sending to their children by throwing over-the-top affairs.

“The kids are so blase. Some weekends they have more than one party. And the actual significance of the ritual? Forget it. For all the money spent and attention to detail, very few kids have any understanding of the significance of the day,” said my friend.

Parents who want to keep the family celebrations at an appropriate level – whether it be their child’s first or fifth birthday, bar or bat mitzvah, or graduation party, often find themselves in a bind. It’s not so easy explaining to your own child why their party isn’t going to have all the bells and whistles, or any of them, for that matter.

Like many difficult parenting moments, this is, in fact, an opportunity. A chance to discuss the celebration itself and the real reasons behind it. It is a rare moment in which a dialogue about values won’t feel out of place or contrived.