Ashi & Rami

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2011-01-10T16:18:00.001-05:00

Moving Blogs.....

2010-05-07T16:05:00.000-04:00

Please change your bookmarks and rss feeds!
Ashi and Rami have moved blogging homes to make room for their new baby sister.
The new blog is called "Two Boychiks and a Meidele"
and can be found at http://2boychiksand1meidele.blogspot.com.
Hope you'll keep watching them grow in their new home!

2010-04-29T12:00:00.001-04:00

Back in August, when we first found out that we were expecting a third baby, I went to one of those very very early checkups. The ultrasound in those early weeks shows a little white dot (the baby) and a little flash (the heartbeat.)
Every time I had had one of those early ultrasounds in the past, it was so exciting - the confirmation that nothing had changed except this millimeters-long bundle of cells that suddenly, miraculously, had a life of its own, both independent of me and completely dependent on me.
And that that little flashing bundle meant that, before I knew it, everything would change once again.

I settled down in the chair, excited for the rush of seeing the flash-flash-flash on the screen. The ultrasound began.
I waited for the plane of view to land on the little embryo.

Moments passed. We saw a sac.

Moments more passed. Nothing showed up in the sac.

After a minute or two, the technician put a hand on my shoulder. She said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. It looks like there's no baby."

An empty sac. A pregnancy with no baby. Hopes risen up and then dashed. A mention of speaking with the doctor about removing the sac, the failed pregnancy, so we could start again. A follow-up appointment next week.

Over the next few days, I did what any reasonable person would do - I scoured the internet. I read story after story of families with the same situation. Most of them ended sadly - there really was no baby. But every so often it turned out that the diagnosis had been wrong, and there was indeed a growing, healthy baby that somehow doctor or ultrasound had missed.
That week, I made God a promise - if we found out there was indeed a baby there, that my case had somehow been misdiagnosed, I would give the baby a name that told the story of the wonders God can perform.

A tear-filled week later, I was back in the ultrasound room, for a final confirmation that there was no baby. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to see the same devastating blankness on the screen. I didn't want to be reminded, in real time, that I had become attached to nothing.

I settled down again. Waited for the image to show on the screen.
Saw the sac.
Prepared, again, to see nothing.
Steeled myself.

Heard the technician say, "....and there's the baby."

I started to hyperventilate.

WHAT?!?!? The BABY!?!?! But there is no baby!

"Why couldn't we see it last week?" I managed to sputter. "I don't know...." the tech said...."you should have been able to...."

Today, thank God, we have a beautiful, healthy baby girl named Nesyah, which means "miracle of God." Her nickname, "Nesi," can be translated, "my miracle" - her very existence is my own personal reminder of the very real presence of miracles in our everyday lives.

Jewish tradition is that every person's name should have a story. Names, from the Bible through to today, not only tell the story of where we come from, but guide us towards what we will become. A name is a blessing - an articulation of the hopes and dreams that our parents have for us that give us the inspiration and strength to be better people.

Our blessing for Nesyah is that her name will remind her that miracles are possible, miracles are everywhere, and that her role in this world is to prove that by being a blessing to others.

Big Brother Love

2010-04-28T00:55:00.000-04:00

Both of the boys are fascinated with their baby sister after her second full day at home.
This morning Asher laid in bed cuddling with her for about 5 minutes. (awwww...)
She started fussing and I picked her up.
He sat straight up and held out both arms to hug her.
My heart melted - I couldn't resist. I handed her over.

This is what ensued.

More like an enthusiastic bicep curl.

Or a choke hold. But a loving choke hold.

Gotta start somewhere, right?

First Meeting

2010-04-24T21:08:00.000-04:00

"Each friend represents a world in us,
a world possibly not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

~ Anais Nin

This Girl

2010-04-23T19:10:00.002-04:00

From the very beginning of her story,
to her arrival here yesterday,

this girl, hours old, is a miracle.

In the 39 weeks that I carried her
and mere 36 hours since she has been born
her existence, and the story of her life (so far),
has richly grown the gratitude in my heart
intensified my sense of awe
and deepened my belief in the power of The Source of Life.

You will hear the whole story when, Gd willing, she recieves a name on April 29th.
For now, some scenes from her first hours on Earth:

After a ~~causing Ima to hyperventilate with fear~~

~~scaring the BeJeezus out of everyone~~

having a little bit of a difficult time with labor contractions, arriving on the scene by emergency C-section:

Meeting Ima (who only looked so calm because her face was numb from the anesthesia):

Bringing our incredible doula, Caroline, back into our lives:

Weighing in at exactly the same size as her big brother Asher at birth (minus the screaming):

Looking quite a bit like Rami:

Eskimo kissing a smitten Abba:

A rare moment sitting with Ima without yelling at her to EAT! NOW!!!

Welcome to this world, sweet girl.

We've been waiting for you, and we're so very grateful that you're here.

"What to Feed Your Child Every Day": A Lesson in Futility

2010-04-20T15:19:00.000-04:00

I love Parents magazine.

No, really. I do.

I think it's fun to flip through it to see just which article will make me want to throw it against a wall this month.

Anyway.

This month they published a very helpful spread explaining what you should be feeding your little darling every day.

You know, so they won't turn into sugar-crazed goblins, sociopaths, or, Gd forbid, average academic performers.

See how helpful this is?
Especially the examples of the gorgeous dishes you're supposed to use to serve your little ones?

I made lunch for the boys today, keeping in mind this oh-so-helpful advice. Let's take a look at which healthy, delicious, and appropriately-apportioned foods I chose for my darlings:

Now, let's see what they did with them:

Well, I suppose Parents magazine told me to feed my children these foods.
Guess it's up to me to figure out how to get the boys to actually eat them.

(Thanks for another down-to-earth, non-preachy article, Parents!

Can't wait for you to make me feel guilty and inadequate in June's issue, too.)

Bedtime Shema

2010-04-15T20:37:00.001-04:00

When Asher was an only, I used to hold and rock him during bedtime prayers.

Now that we sing prayers all together in the big boy room,

we've had the boys tuck up in their own beds to sing their bedtime Shema.
Our custom had been for me to sit by Ashi's bedside and rub his back while I sing.

Rami would just lay in his own crib and listen.

A couple of weeks ago, I started to scoot over to Rami's side of the room

and stretch one of my fingers through the bars.

He always touches one of his tiny fingertips to mine,

and, most of the time, giggles.

A lot.

Oh, how I love these boys.

Last-Minute Errand

2010-04-11T10:55:00.000-04:00

Asher: "Oh! Ima? Excuse me."
Ima: "Yes, Asher?"

Asher: "I forgot."
Ima: "What did you forget?"

Asher: "I want to go get a chocolate donut. At the donut store!"
Ima: "Okay, Asher. Let's go."*

Asher: "Oh, okay. Thanks, Ima."
Ima: "You're welcome, baby."

*Sometimes, when your little boy asks to go to "the donut store," it's good to just say, "Okay," load everyone in the car, and go. Not always, but sometimes.

Welcome Letter

2010-04-07T21:27:00.002-04:00

Dear Abba and Ima,

Welcome to the terrible twos.

(I know that you think you've dealt with the "terrible twos" before.

But, having grown up with my big brother for nearly 17 months,

I can tell you that his easy compliance
with concepts like "time-out" and "being polite"

mean that what you called "the terrible twos" was really just a bit of challenging behavior.)

That is, compared to what I'm about to dish out.

Prepare yourselves!

for unsolicited yelling,

wild mood swings,

and temper tantrums that escalate from 0-60 in .7 seconds.

If all goes according to plan, by 2012 or so, I will have redeemed myself with some carefully-timed episodes of pure sweetness.

And remember -
every time you keep your cool,

respond lovingly but firmly,

and discipline me gently but consistently,

you're doing a great job.

Kisses,
Ram Ram

Rami's Favorite Passover Breakfast Recipe

2010-04-04T21:16:00.000-04:00

Ingredients:
1 pc plain matzah
2 tbsp cream cheese
2 tbsp jelly
Fruity Pebbles to taste
Strawberries*

Have your Abba and Ima spread the matzah first with cream cheese, then with jelly.
Then (and this is important!)
lick the jelly off the matzah,
making as big of a mess as possible.

Then apply the Fruity Pebbles to the cream cheese to taste.
(Don't forget to save a handful of cereal for side noshing.)

*We'll be ignoring the fresh strawberries completely, but it makes your Ima feel better if you have the option of eating them. Also, while she's concentrating on cutting them up, you can probably get a pretty good jelly smear across your face, your shirt, or even in your hair.

Chag Sameach!

Who, Me?

2010-04-03T19:26:00.001-04:00

Who, me?

Neglect my blog for TWO MONTHS?*

Oh, you're talking about me throwing

all of our Passover "dishes" all over the floor?

Yeah, I'm doing that.

And I'm not sorry.

*I, Leigh Ann, am responsible for that. And I am sorry. Project 365, the third trimester, and other craziness has been pulling me away from blogging for awhile. But I've already put together a new blog for when the chickpea arrives (www.2boychiksand1meidele.blogspot.com) and another, different blog is in the works - I'll share that address when it goes live. Thanks for still following us after months on hiatus, whoever is out there!

It Might Not Look Like He's Playing Hide-and-Seek...

2010-02-05T16:57:00.002-05:00

But he is.

Rami's never quite gotten "hide-and-seek."

When you say, "Where's Rami?"
he puts his hands, or his spoons, or his blankie, on the side of his head.
Or the top.

He thinks you can't see him,

and he likes to watch your face while you "search" for him.

He pulls the hidey-things away from his face with such delighted flair,
the seeker is so charmed,
and Rami gives such a nice hearty laugh,
that it doesn't really matter if he knows exactly how to play the game.

Plus, that crooked smile is to die for.

Injustice

2010-02-03T10:28:00.002-05:00

Rami stole Asher's fork at breakfast this morning.

The injustice was so horrific
that even when David got Rami a new fork,
and returned Asher's to him,
the outcry continued.

In a Clinton-esque move, David extended a treaty of extra syrup for the waffles.

It didn't help.

As for me? I just kept snapping pictures.

After all, such incomprehensible injustice really must be documented.

You know, for the greater good and all.

30/365 - "Love-and-Kiss Fest"

2010-02-01T10:30:00.002-05:00

When Rami woke up from his Shabbat morning nap,

he was in need of a good snuggle.

I was still napping, so David slid him in next to me for some hugs.

Rami is NEVER happier than when he's cuddling with his Ima.

Pretty soon, our quiet snuggle turned into a love-and-kiss fest,

with Rami cooing, "Ima!" every time I kissed his face.

Just like the good old days,

except now he says my name.

(Oh, how I adore this boy.)

Flour + Water + Yeast + Butter + Sugar = Shabbat Morning Love

2010-01-30T18:30:00.001-05:00

Parenting Lessons Learned Early:

The way to a boy's heart

is through

his stomach.

28/365 - Who Needs Toys?

2010-01-28T20:46:00.005-05:00

Who needs toys

when you have belts, scarves, and ties?

Ashi and Rami have invented a little game:
Ashi grabs a blankie, scarf, or in this case, Abba's belt.
Rami grabs on to the end.

Ashi runs.
Rami gets pulled along till he falls down.
Rami gives a big belly laugh, picks himself up, and the game starts again.

Given that it involves running ripshot with otherwise grown-up objects,

plus the obligatory roughhousing,

and adds in, of course, belly laughs,

it is an awesome, awesome game.

24/365 - Tackle!

2010-01-24T18:12:00.003-05:00

24/365 - Tackle!
Originally uploaded by Leigh Ann Kopans

The boys are starting to play together more and more.

I think it was David who taught the boys to tackle one another.

Rami, (I assume due to his smaller size and slower speed,)

has developed a pretty good strategy for tackling his big brother -

grab onto his clothes,

hold on for dear life,

and hope he falls down before you do.

The spikes running down the back of Asher's dinosaur costume made perfect little handles.

Asher didn't stand a chance.

Normally, the tackle-ee has a look of horror and despair on his face (like in this shot,)

while the tackle-er wears an expression of total glee.

Today, they both seemed delighted to be playing the game.

23/365 - On the Shabbat Agenda:

2010-01-23T19:04:00.001-05:00

23/365 - On the Shabbat Agenda:
Originally uploaded by Leigh Ann Kopans

1 - Sit around in the living room.
2 - Hug and kiss my babies.

So glad we made time for THAT.

Lunchtime Lessons

2010-01-10T13:20:00.004-05:00

David: "Asher, where did all your blueberries go?"

(Asher looks guilty.)

(Asher not-so-stealthily shoves another blueberry into his pocket.)

David: "Ashi, food goes in our...."

Asher: "...mouth."

David: "...not in our..."

Asher: "...pockets."

(Asher grins.)

1/365 - "Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear..."

2010-01-01T11:17:00.002-05:00

Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear,
Your head like the golden-rod,
And we will go sailing away from here
To the beautiful Land of Nod.
Away from life's hurry, and flurry, and worry,
Away from earth's shadows and gloom,
To a world of fair weather we'll float off together,
Where roses are always in bloom.

Just shut up your eyes, and fold your hands,
Your hands like the leaves of a rose,
And we will go sailing to those fair lands
That never an atlas shows.
On the North and the West they are bounded by rest,
On the South and the East, by dreams;
'Tis the country ideal, where nothing is real,
But everything only seems.

Just drop down the curtains of your dear eyes,
Those eyes like a bright blue-bell,
And we will sail out under starlit skies,
To the land where the fairies dwell.

Down the river of sleep, our barque shall sweep,
Till it reaches that mystical Isle
Which no man hath seen, but where all have been,
And there we will pause awhile.
I will croon you a song as we float along,
To that shore that is blessed of God,
Then, ho! for that fair land, we're off for that rare land,
That beautiful Land of Nod.

~"The Beautiful Land of Nod"

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Sometimes, Food Really Is the Same as Love

2009-12-28T15:07:00.005-05:00

My great-great Grandmother Schneider emigrated from Germany to America

over one hundred years ago.

Like all immigrants, she didn't carry much with her

but the clothes on her back

and the information in her head.

In the Schneider family, winter meant sugar cookies.

The recipe traveled from Germany with my great-great Grandmother.

Family legend holds that my great-Grandmother discovered

that the children ate more of these sugar cookies when she frosted and decorated them.

(And being German, we very much want the children to EAT.)

My Nana learned that children will help bake and decorate the cookies

if doing so was a condition for getting to eat them

(Or, famously, "If you don't help, you don't eat.")

My father learned that if one disregards the called-for amount of vanilla

and instead just pours in a whole darn bottle,

the cookies are much richer and tastier.

I learned that if one replaces the called-for margarine with

(probably the originally called-for) real butter, the result is richer and tastier still.

In 2009, are these cookies different from the day they made the trip over from Germany?

Sure.

Are they that much more delicious?

Absolutely.

For all their changes and embellishments,

these are, more than ever,

the Schneider family cookies.

Very much different from the original

for the frosting, vanilla, and real butter, yes,

but they are ten times that rich

for the generations of love and care that was poured into making them.

Personally, I can't imagine any way to make these cookies any more delectable.

But I'll guarantee you that my boys will -

and this is only the beginning.

Sometimes You Just Need a Little Recharge

2009-12-26T18:00:00.000-05:00

Rami is our snuggler.

He plays along with the best of them -

rough-and-tumbling his way all through the house

right along with his big brother -

but every few minutes,

he'll head over to Abba or Ima

and lay his head on a shoulder

for a little recharge of love.

There's no particular reason that,

at that moment,

he's in need of a snuggle.

But it fixes him right up

and off he goes again

to make some more mischief.

(That is, until the next recharge.)

Even though it doesn't happen as often as every few minutes for grownups,

I think we are all in need of a recharge sometimes.

Winter break has been a chance for me to spend more quality time with the boys.

I've also been suffering through an acute bout of writer's block.

(And photographer's...something-or-other.)

But we've still been taking photos

and making magic.

So stay tuned for stories from all our December adventures...

as soon as we're all finished recharging.

Baby Shoes

2009-12-03T10:00:00.000-05:00

On Friday,

after a beautiful morning

of rough-and-tumble playing with Rami,

I noticed that

his shoes have holes in the toes.

These shoes do not belong to him alone,

they first belonged to his brother.

We first put them on each of the boys

in order to ensure that their socks stayed on.

As my grandmother, Gram, cradled a two-month-old Asher,

she taught me,

"If you keep their feet warm, honey,

that'll go a long way."

(That is the wisest piece of parenting advice I've ever received.)

So on the shoes went, keeping two sets of toes (my absolute favorite baby part, hands down) toasty warm.

Later, their tops were mercilessly dragged along the ground

by not one, but two, expert crawlers.

The soles were the next to be worn out by two sets of first steps,

not much farther than a year apart.

And now, as Rami becomes an expert walker,

gaining speed daily,

learning to stop, pivot, restart,

relying less and less on couches, tables, and our legs to anchor him,

these soft-soled baby shoes have walked their last steps.

I can't really explain

why I've devoted an entire blog post to these well-worn scraps of leather.

It's just that...

They kept those precious toes warm and safe

for the better part of two years.

A daily part of the boys' babyhood has now left us.

And I didn't even see it coming.

Does Asher Have a Future in Coaching?

2009-12-01T11:15:00.000-05:00

A recent walking training session with Rami:

"Are You Hoping for a Girl?"

2009-11-28T18:21:00.003-05:00

We have two beautiful, happy, delicious little boys.

So, when my belly started to swell

and the news of this new little one started to get around,

right after the "B'sha'ah Tovah!" often came inquiries like:

"Are you hoping for a girl?"

"Were you trying for a girl?"

"Don't you want just one baby girl?"

"It really doesn't matter," I'd reply, grinning.

I love my boys.

A girl would be wonderful, to be sure.

But my world would be complete if I had a dozen children

and all turned out to be boys.

Truthfully, at the heart of the matter, is this:

we have learned (fortunately and unfortunately) to consider every healthy pregnancy

a miracle from G-d.

So, there are a lot of things I hoped for this child.

I hoped for health.

I hoped for contentment.

I hoped for loving family and friends.

I hoped for a peaceful life.

But never once - not once - did I honestly hope for a specific gender.

(But! This does not preclude my obsession with ultrasounds,

and catching a glimpse of babies-on-the-way as much as possible.

Or my desire to know every little detail about baby.)

Yesterday, my parents, Auntie Amanda and Uncle Steve, and Gram

volunteered to take the boys out for a day of fun

so that David and I could spend some time together.

My thoughtful and generous husband booked us a mini 3-D scan.

As we watched a tiny heart pumping, legs flexing, fingers grasping,

we marveled.

As we looked at this new little one's tiny face,

every hope we've had for each of our children

was fervently renewed.

So, as things progress (G-d willing,)

we'll continue to marvel and to give thanks,

to hope and to pray

for health, contentment, love and peace,

for this baby,

this daughter,

this sister,

this girl.

Giving Thanks

2009-11-26T20:11:00.001-05:00

Thou hast given so much to me,

Give one thing more, - a grateful heart;
Not thankful when it pleaseth me,
As if Thy blessings had spare days,
But such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.

~George Herbert

Thanksgiving is a favorite holiday around here.
It is a day in which our hearts,
are given a chance to rest,
enjoy the full company of those we most love,
and reflect on a full year
of such abundant pleasures and happinesses
that we almost cannot believe it.

This year we spent our day being especially thankful for:

Family gathered together from near and far

to celebrate with food in abundance.

Two beautiful, healthy, thriving boys,

and a miracle that is at once so small and so great

that my heart skips a beat every time I consider my gratitude

for it in particular:

someone new

who, G-d willing, we're expecting to meet (in person) in April.

This year, we're not only giving thanks for the miracles in our lives,

but for our ability and our propensity

to lift up our hearts in thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving.

One Year Old

2009-11-24T03:01:00.003-05:00

Dear Rami,

Today you are one year old.

A year ago today, you arrived into this world as a person in your own rite.

My arms were the first to hold you. Abba's face was the first you saw.

Your eyes were wide as you took in the outside world

that held the echo of familiarity but was still wholly alien.

After we snuggled for a moment, you were taken away for silly things

like weighing, measuring, checking-over.

You protested, screaming and kicking, outraged to be removed from my arms,

and loudly discontent until you returned there.

(I really appreciated that.)

Within a few days of knowing you in person,

We were referring to you as an intense child.

When you were happy, you were very happy.

When you were upset, you were very upset.

That is still true.

Most of the time, the whole world is your delight.

New foods and tastes,

The simplest toy,

The briefest game of hide-and-seek or tickle-attack,

And your gigantic, gorgeous, infectious belly laugh fills the room.

(And when you are angry, there is no mistaking it.)

As easily as you are pleased by just about everything,

there is nothing – NOTHING – you love more than your family.

Your earliest and strongest attachment was to me – Ima.

Nothing brought you more happiness than snuggling up close,

sleeping away those cold first winter months of your life on my chest.

Even now, just a glance from me can cause the most beautiful,

rapturous smile to spread across your face.

As you grew a bit more aware, you realized that Abba,

whose features your face mirrors so closely,

is the best entertainer, and prepares the best dinners of all.

(He is also a sucker for prolonged cuddling, of which you are particularly fond.)

But neither of these compares to your complete and total adoration of Asher.

Your big brother can do no wrong.

Even when he is pushing you to the ground or stealing your dinner,

You are infatuated with him.

You long to play with his toys alongside him,

to walk like him, talk like him, eat like him.

In the last month, you two have become playmates, copying one another, and creating

the most beautiful sounds of little-boy conversational laughter

that so happily fill our whole house.

When he congratulates you, “Good walking, Rami!”

your face lights up as though you had just been awarded the Nobel Prize.

I often call you “my heart.”

Because of you Asher has a brother.

Because of you I understand the joy of having a child that so resembles my beloved.

Because of you I have experienced the ability to love one child

just as fiercely as, yet totally differently fromanother.

Because of you I came back to life.

Because of you I believe in miracles.

Happy first birthday, my sweet boy.

I can’t wait to see what the next year has in store.

Love, Ima

Pumpkin Challah

2009-11-21T16:35:00.004-05:00

Prep:

1/2 c water, 3/4 c pumpkin puree, 3 lg eggs, 3 tbsp light brown sugar, 3 tbsp canola oil, 4 2/3 c flour, 2 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp ground ginger, 1/4 tsp nutmeg, 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon, 1 tbsp bread machine yeast.

Mix:

Bread machine dough cycle (See? I'm not superwoman.)

Braid.

Bake.

Delight.

YUM.
(You're welcome.)

Failed Chanukah Cards*

2009-11-20T11:16:00.002-05:00

Apparently,

there is no worse thing

I could ask of the boys

in the entire universe

than to sit together,

hug one another,

and smile.

____

*No, this isn't our "real" Chanukah card - I'll post that one next month. But these *are* the cards that will go in the boys' keepsake boxes, for sure.

Survival Mode

2009-11-12T10:49:00.001-05:00

David was sick all weekend.
By Saturday night, after a full day of taking care of the boys all by myself,
I hit that familiar parenting zone:

Survival Mode.

Here is an example of "survival mode" in the Kopans household:

Last Zoo Trip of 2009

2009-11-08T19:29:00.004-05:00

Of all things that are totally, 100% worth the cash,
I'd say that, hands-down, a zoo membership is in the top ten.

I've lost count of how many weekend days we've spent at the Columbus Zoo,
of how many sweet memories we've gathered from our time there.

The weather on this early November day

was gorgeous.

A balmy 68 degrees and sunny.

I got The Message.

Get those boys to the zoo now!

(Because next weekend it will probably be freezing. Until April.)

Since Auntie Al was up for the challenge,
she drove up for lunch
and our last big Zoo trip of 2009.

Luckily "fun Auntie Al" has no problem paying 51 cents for yet another souvenir penny
(already long lost, I might add.)

We saw ALL the monkeys at the zoo
Which allowed for some close encounters
(that left Asher terrified and Rami nonplussed)

and some helpful reminders
(for me and for the boys, respectively.)

But, after visiting monkeys, kangaroos, okapi, and even hearing a lion roar,
the best part of being at the zoo was, well,

being at the zoo.

Rami tested his walking skills
(yeah, yeah, I'm posting a video soon)
with the help of his brother

and on his own.

We got lucky and saw our friends Tovah and Avital

and Asher shared his raisins.

Asher entertained Rami with some surprisingly realistic lion roars.

All in all, a really good day.

New Diet

2009-11-05T09:33:00.000-05:00

Rami's on a SeeFood diet:

He eats food,

and you see it.

(gross, huh? It's a good thing he's so delicious himself.)

"Daylight Savings Time"

2009-11-02T11:13:00.003-05:00

Daylight Savings Time -
is it
an unfortunate oxymoron?
or a cruel joke on parents of young children?

Let me explain this line of questioning
(which is dripping with annoyed sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell:)

This past Sunday morning
happened to be that blessed morning when, once a year,
all of our clocks "fell back,"
bestowing upon the bedraggled legions of working Americans
one. priceless. extra. HOUR. of sleep.

I was allowed to enjoy about 2 minutes of that hour.

I was awoken at 4:30
to some particularly exuberant
boy-noises floating down the hall.

"Rami, Rami!" Asher cried.

"Eeeeeeeeeeahhhhhhhhhuuu!" Rami gleefully responded.

The sound of one small body bouncing on mattress springs, echoed by that of another.

My head pounded.
I tossed and turned, buried my head under the covers.
Why 4:30? I wondered. What did I do to deserve this?

In a split second, realization came crashing down.
Our clocks had been set back,
but our boys' brains hadn't.
They thought it was 5:30 - their normal wakeup time.

And, finally,

because Rami's pajamas struck me

as unfortunately appropriate,

Things Kids Universally Love #63

2009-10-29T16:05:00.002-04:00

Whether it's a rocket ship or hot air balloon,

tugboat or dumptruck,

fighter jet or submarine,

beauty shop chair or bathtub,

decked-out castle,

or deep, dark, scary cave,

2009 or 1985,

Kids

Love

Moving Boxes.

(So, why do we buy them all those other junky toys?)

On Daddies and Abbas

2009-10-22T10:16:00.003-04:00

A while ago, after collecting the boys from school,

Asher demanded, "Go see Daddy!"

(Now, we have never been "Mommy" and "Daddy" to the boys -

our names are "Ima" and "Abba" around here.)

So, I bent down and asked him,

"Asher, what is your Daddy's name?"

With earnest, he looked into my eyes and replied, "David."

Surprised by that common parental feeling of combined shock, amusement, and pride,

I attempted to hold in my laughter and tried again.

"Asher, what do we call the daddy in our family?"

I saw a small spark of recognition flicker across his eyes. Smiling proudly, Asher exclaimed, "David KOPANS!"

~~~~~

Fast forward to 3:00 this morning.

A small boy cried out for rescue

from the throes of a nightmare,

"DADDY!!!"

He was retrieved from the dark scariness

and deposited in the big bed.

As he snuggled next to me,

I whispered,

"Asher, what's your daddy's name?"

He snuggled back and sleepily replied,

"Abba."

Probably that's why I let him sleep like this for the rest of the night,

leaving me about 6 inches of mattress and a horrible backache.

It's a good thing he's worth it.

Sukkot, or "That Holiday with the Huts" (5770)

2009-10-03T20:19:00.003-04:00

Sukkot is one of those holidays that, at face value, it doesn't make much sense for Jews to have.

For a week every autumn,
we are commanded to build and "dwell in" temporary structures called sukkot.
(Lev. 23:42-43)

Which probably made lots of sense for a bunch of Israelites who had been building pyramids their whole lives.
A little hut? No sweat.
For us? Let's just say it's a bit more of a challenge.

But the Ancient Israelites also didn't have power drills, staple guns, folding tables, or LED twinkle lights.
So it pretty much evens out, I'd say.

Happily, our family sukkah is both fab and pre-fab (by Sabba.) We just drag it out, put up the cornstalk roof, decorate, sit, and eat. Mmmm.

Challah from the Source

Gorgeous Cholent (if I do say so myself)

Post-lunch Adventure (read: hole digging) with Rivky

A Quick Photo Shoot for Posterity

And, just like last year, an exhausted Asher crashed at 5:30 PM.

Chag Sukkot Sameach - Happy Sukkot!

*Also, just so you know, the High Holidays (AKA the most insane time of my year) are now coming to an end. You should be hearing from us much more regularly from this point.

In Which I Grovel at Your Feet, Dear Readers

2009-09-11T14:27:00.002-04:00

Twenty-two (22) days without a new post!
What was I THINKING?!?!
How could I abandon you all like that?
Stranded miles, sometimes even states away,
with no little stories about the boys!
Deprived of even new pictures, for crying out loud!!!

I'm sorry.
So very sorry.

The last few weeks have been....let's say...
~~horrible~~

~~rough~~

~~pretty darn stressful~~

challenging.
(To say the least.)

Most of my free time over the next few weeks
will be spent celebrating the Jewish High Holidays and Sukkot
with some amazing students at THE Ohio State University.

For now, I hope you'll accept my deepest apologies
and understand if I'm too exhausted
to brag about my dear ones with much frequency
for the next month or so.

And, as a preview of my favorite season, autumn,
please accept this offering of photographs
of the boys in some of their autumn hats.

Love,
Ima

Happy Birthday, Abba.

2009-08-21T08:00:00.001-04:00

Today is David's Birthday.
I bought him one of my famous gifts
(that is, a gift that's really for myself -
it's a little flat-screen TV for our room, if you must know.)

The boys didn't get him much -
after all, they're pretty short on cash.

But they did sneak a DVD in the player when Abba wasn't looking.
Here's what was on it.

The Big Boy Room

2009-08-09T18:33:00.006-04:00

Prepare yourselves for an admission of a serious parenting folly:
Rami slept in our bedroom for 8 (eight) months and some days.

It was out of desperation, really-
in a single room, we thought,
one crying boy would lead to a second crying boy.
If one cried out in the night,
but he was the only crying boy in the room,
only one parent would have to tend to him.

Relegated to a Pack N'Play in Abba and Ima's room,
Rami woke nearly every night
between the hours of midnight and two.
Meaning one parent lost significant sleep each night,
cuddling a restless baby by the bathroom light through the crack under the door.
But, we reasoned, one sleep-deprived parent is better than two.

So, we danced this sleep-trading dance,
(David losing more sleep than I)
night after night
for more than eight months.

On Thursday last,
I finally reached the breaking point.

I was fantasizing about sleep.

Solid, unbroken sleep.
Surrounded by blissful pitch-darkness.

When I looked at pictures of myself,
The dark circles under my eyes made me look OLD (old!)
(My vanity rivals Rami's so, as you can imagine, that was the last straw.)

We hunkered down for a lo-o-o-o-ong weekend of sleep training.
Both boys in one room or bust!

After we lit Shabbat candles all together,
we marched the boys upstairs,
dressed them in jammies,
read stories,
sang bedtime prayers,
put them in their respective cribs,
and waited for the screaming to begin.

We heard a small boy bouncing on mattress springs (a quick peek confirmed it was Rami.)
Some settling of little bodies.
A passing chatty word here or there.

And then didn't hear a peep from either until six (6:00!) the next morning.

We couldn't figure it out!
Why, after all these nights of waking,
did Rami sleep through the night
only when put in the same room as his brother?
Well, we'll never know for sure.

But when we put them in the same crib to play today
I think we found the answer -
he missed his big brother.

Sweet dreams, boys.
This is the beginning of so many adventures together.

Why I love Ashi

2009-08-07T12:28:00.000-04:00

Last month, Asher turned two years old.
A celebratory gift was in order.

Like most little children, Asher is obsessed with farm animals.
O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D.
(He has cow shoes.
A cow backpack.
A cow shirt.
A cow movie.
And a gajillion cow figurines.)

I was so excited for Asher to see the birthday gift I had picked for him -
a deluxe wooden barn (painted bright red)
to properly house all his animals he loves so dearly.
I had a plan.
On the eve of his birthday,
I would set the barn up in the living room.
I would put the pigs in the pen,
the horses out to pasture,
and arrange his beloved cows
so that they would be winking and smiling in greeting
first thing
the morning of his big day.

I imagined that he would squeal with joy,
run towards the barn,
throw his arms around my neck,
perhaps exclaim, "Thank you, Ima!" (which, in fairness, he has been known to do.)
I imagined wrong.

Instead, Asher assessed the situation.
A brand new barn.
Animals that needed to make themselves at home.
Imaginary troughs that needed to be filled
(these particular animals dine on star-shaped sprinkles).
Sleeping arrangements that needed to be made.
And, of course, a lineup and accounting of All Animals Present that had to be done.
He got right to work.

He never smiled
never laughed
never gleefully threw his arms around my neck in thanks.

But I'll be darned if he didn't spend the entire day
(I mean the entire day)
Completing those tasks that clearly needed to be done.

I thought it was strange,
if endearingly so.
I lovingly shared the story
with acquaintances -
evidence of my boy's unique character.

Then I remembered a gift given to me just a year ago.
My husband,
proud that I had landed my dream job,
bought me a shiny red laptop
with which to embark on my new career.
It was (is) awesome.
So much memory to hold every geek-tastic program a rabbi could want.
Great for photos and watching DVDs
Fast for downloading too many podcasts (as I am wont to do.)
I spent all day setting it up
installing programs
transferring files
customizing the desktop
etc.
while David semi-anxiously hovered.

A handful of times throughout the day,
he would quietly ask,
"So, do you like it?"

"I just need to get this program installed," I would reply.
"Ugh, why is it doubling every song in my library!?!?"
"Wow, transferring files takes longer than I thought."

As I mused over the story of my shiny red laptop,
remembered myself bent over the keyboard,
trying to get it set up just-so,
I saw in my mind's eye
my Asher,
bent over his shiny red barn,
trying to get it set up just so.

So, there you have it -
why I love Asher...
He's just like me.
(G-d help him.)

One Rash, Two Rash....

2009-08-05T18:35:00.001-04:00

Red Rash

Blue Rash

Rami has Roseola.
Ashi? Who knows?

Why I Love Rami

2009-08-03T10:44:00.004-04:00

I've said it a hundred different ways, so very many times:

I
love
Rami.

And I've told you why:
His good cheer
His belly laugh
His determination

And, it's true
These are all reasons that I love my darling smaller boy.
But the other day,
talking with David,
I realized that all these reasons that constitute my love for Rami boil down to a very distinct essence.
(Which I'll share with you now.)

First of all, Rami looks like my beshert.*
No, no, not just a slight resemblance -
he looks exactly like David.

See?

But wait!
There's more:

I love Rami because, about a year and a half ago,
our family was going through a bit of a rough time,
a time of loss,
a time in which I was, it seemed, profoundly, irreparably sad.
And, just as it seemed that the despair of that loss would never stop hounding me,
I found out that Rami was on his way.

And, in those very early days,
his days of steady cell-dividing miraculousness,
as I sang him the angel song in the womb,
the hope that his existence brought me
sang me back to myself.

Every mother shares a bond with her child
and the bond between Rami and me has a very distinct tenor.
You see, it is not only that I gave him life,
it is that he also gave life back to me.

Stay tuned for the second installment in this series: "Why I love Asher."
___
* Meaning "destiny," "fate," or "meant to be," this word is commonly used in reference to one's soul mate.

Wisconsin (Or: Collage-a-palooza)

2009-07-29T10:21:00.004-04:00

{In which I annoyingly think that every. single. photo. I took of my kids this past weekend in Wisconsinland is precious and MUST BE SHARED. But hey, you're looking, so you musn't mind too much.}

Ah, to take a 36-hour vacation!
To depart at 10:00 on a Saturday and return at 10:00 Sunday night!
What caprice!

What spontaneity!

What relaxation!

Oh, right. Unless you happen to have two very small children.

Our trip started with flight delays - waiting, waiting, and more waiting for the weather to clear up at O'Hare and then Columbus.
Having (almost) no toys and (almost) no food, the boys moped around and chewed on waiting-area chairs.

Exhausted, yet still forced into matching sweater-vests and plaid shorts (oh, the humanity!) the boys partied down at Nana and Pa's 50th anniversary bash.

The next morning, Ashi was looking pretty rough. Good thing he had access to coffee* and cold pizza - breakfast of champions.

Then, being the chipper morning person I am, I decided it was a great idea to drag the whole family to the beach for sunrise - and it was.

Then came the Giganto Scary Family Photo, in which everyone was wearing white tops and blue jeans...oy.

On the schlep back to O'Hare and then to our departing gates, Asher was entertained by Auntie Al's sunglasses, comforted by Elle the elephant, and sustained by appropriately messy spaghetti.

So, to recap -
We schlepped
We celebrated
We woke up
We felt the sand between our toes
We posed for posterity
We schlepped back.

All in all, a pretty awesome weekend. Thanks, Wisconsin.
____
*Okay parenting police, don't freak out - Ashi wanted to use that coffee cup so badly that finally we just filled it with water. Problem solved.

Stress Relief

2009-07-21T12:34:00.002-04:00

How do you relieve stress
at the end of a long day?

How to Stay Friends Forever

2009-07-20T13:03:00.009-04:00

I know a way to stay friends forever,

there's really nothing to it;

I tell you what to do,

and you do it.

~Shel Silverstein

We had a great time visiting with Nevoh and her Abba and Ima this weekend.
Rami really wanted Nevi's precious paci.
His plan to steal it would have been flawless,
had it not been for the telltale pink (girly) color.
(Nice try, Ram Ram)

On a side note, Nevoh let me shoot some pictures of her in her pretty dress. See?

That's What an Abba is For

2009-07-12T06:06:00.004-04:00

Attention all little kids everywhere:

If your Shabbos schluffie* should be interrupted (much too early)

by a thunder storm (an unreasonably loud one, if you ask me,)

It’s okay if you need your Abba to retrieve you for cuddles and love,

And if you need him to convince Ima to let you have Shabbat lunch while lying on the couch.

Later on, you might need your Abba to put some band-aids on your knees (even though you have no injuries to speak of,)

Or to hold your ice cream cone for you (even though you are perfectly capable of doing that for yourself.)

It’s even okay to insist that he hold you on his lap, (even though he already has his hands full with another squirming boy.)

It’s okay – really.

(After all, your Shabbos schluffie was ruined!)

And isn’t that what an Abba is for?

*Shabbos Schluffie (SHAHB-uhss SCHLUHFF-ee), n. A particularly luxurious kind of nap, instigated by extreme sleepiness which is mysteriously un-preceded by the low level of exertion characteristic of a Saturday morning. As schluffies go, it is the best kind, owing to the unspecified wake-up time in combination with the promise of delicious Shabbat food upon waking.

Trouble, Round 2

2009-07-09T08:43:00.002-04:00

It's hard to believe that it has been 15 months since I posted the original "Trouble" post.
Asher, sweet, darling, angelic boy that he is,
gave me a few weeks to get over his transition from "baby" to "big boy,"
waiting a full month to go from crawling to cruising.

I have learned a simple truth about my Ram-Ram.
As much as he loves me
(and, OH! does he L-O-V-E his Ima...)

he
just
can't
stop himself

from growing up
way too fast.

{Presenting: "Trouble, Round 2."}

Two Years

2009-07-04T01:35:00.001-04:00

Two years ago,
I met Asher.

His entire little body could fit, curled up, on my chest.
I marveled over his tiny toes,
his mewling cries,
the impossible softness of his skin.
His utter perfection.

Those first days and weeks,
He dozed almost constantly
as I sang him songs
told him the story of my love for him
whispered prayers of thanksgiving in his downy ears.
I would lay next to him long after nursing
positioning my face in front of his open mouth
yearning to memorize the unanticipated sweetness of milky baby breath.

In those days,
my heart began to beat in a different way;
the way a mother's heart beats -
not harder, not stronger, not more often
just fuller somehow -
fuller with a mother's intuition
that watching children grow is bittersweet.

Two years later,
Asher is my bright boy.
When he smiles, the sun seems to shine on his face.

During snuggle time, he no longer fits on my chest.
But his arms wrap around my neck in a familiar pose.
Comforting (us both.)

Those tiny toes hit the ground running now,
requiring kisses for repair when stubbed.

That mewling voice now haltingly strings together sentences -
demands, exclamations of joy, declarations of love.
(I never imagined "Ima!" could sound so sweet.)

His gorgeous baby skin has many times
been scraped and bruised by little-boy adventures.

Bedtime prayers have not changed -
(Shema, Hashkiveinu, the Angel Song -)
except, now, Asher sings them along with me.

One day he will sing them for himself.

But not just yet.

Here's to another year of growth, change, discovery, and adventure ahead,
however bittersweet it may be.

Happy Birthday, my sweet boy.

Two Years: Prologue

2009-07-03T12:45:00.005-04:00

Most kids in this world get to enjoy at least two birthdays
as the baby of the family.

For Asher, it was just one birthday as our one and only,
dandled darling,
ooshie-pooshie,
center-of-attention-at-all-times boy.
(He never asked to be a big brother a mere 16 months after his own grand entrance.)

That's why my heart swelled with love
when I saw my big boy
(without being asked, nudged, coerced, or guilted in any way)
bend down
and share one of his beloved french fries
with his little brother.

After all, isn't that what brotherhood (and being a big boy) is all about?

I'm Going to Eat Your Face

2009-06-29T17:25:00.001-04:00

I can't tell you how many times I've been schnoogling* with Rami,
experiencing his utter deliciousness -

that delectable, round softness of cheek!
that loving, relentless pincher grasp!
that squeal of delight from deep in the belly!
that sweet crust of strained pea behind the ear!
that trademark smile of bliss! -

have become overjoyed,
and declared,
"I'm going to eat your face!!!"

Yes, I realize how freaky that sounds.
But consider this:

and then, tell me - wouldn't you say the same thing?

____
*Schnoogle (schNOOgle) - n. An intensified snuggle, differentiated by increased face-kissing, full body hugs, and sighs of contentment and/or squeals of delight.

Mobile

2009-06-24T14:10:00.004-04:00

"Life is like riding a bicycle -
to keep your balance, you must keep moving."
~Albert Einstein

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-21T09:00:00.003-04:00

The father who would taste the essence of his fatherhood
must turn back from the plane of his experience,
take with him the fruits of his journey,

and begin again beside his child,
marching step by step over the same old road.

~Angelo Patri

To see the whole Father's Day set, click here.

____

Father's Day means summer is really, really here! Check out some more sweet summer photography at the Summer Stock Photography Challenge on Robin's Blog, "Around the Island."

Let's Talk About Hair

2009-06-19T09:44:00.002-04:00

I've been lucky to get so many compliments on Asher while we're out and about:
"She's so sweet!"

"What a pretty little girl!"

"Aw, isn't she precious?"

Yep! Even when he's dressed in a polo shirt and cargo pants,
strangers think that Ashi's a girl.

So, why haven't we cut that boy's hair yet?
It's a Jewish custom to let it grow.
Until he's three.

Why?

(I'm glad you asked.)
The Bible compares people to trees:
"...They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper." (Ps.1:3)*

In the Torah,** the Israelites are instructed to refrain from harvesting a tree's fruit for the first three years of its life.

We want our children to be like trees.
We know that small children need lots of special love, care, and devotion to build strong roots.
We know that they need a different kind of love to grow tall and strong.
And yet a different kind to grow branches, leaves, and fruit of their own.

We want our children to be strong enough
to weather the storms of life,
which also means being flexible enough
not to break in the fiercest winds.

So, as a symbol of this deepest of hopes,
we leave his hair alone,
just like the fruit of a tree,
for his first three years.

(Also, it's a sneaky way for me to avoid getting rid of this last little remnant of his baby-hood. Oh, you'd better believe I'm going to cry buckets when we cut it next year.)

To see the whole "Ashi's hair" set, inspired by this post, click here.
__
*Another favorite example of mine is Psalms 92:12 .
**Leviticus 19:23.

Oh, Vanity! {I ♥ Faces}

2009-06-16T08:22:00.004-04:00

We all know that Rami is a beautiful baby.

Apparently, so does he.

____

This post is submitted on I ♥ Faces, a photography blog focused on the art of capturing faces and their various emotions. Visit them at www.iheartfaces.blogspot.com. They pick winners every week - maybe we'll get lucky!

Apology

2009-06-15T08:57:00.003-04:00

Dear Abba,
I am so very sorry about last night.
I know that you need your sleep,
but for some reason,

I just wanted all the snuggles,

hugs,
and attention

I could get from you.

At the time,
letting you sleep for 20-minute stretches
seemed pretty generous to me.
(You are just so much fun to be with
and you give the best cuddles
and I love you so very, very much.)

But now, I have seen the error of my ways.

And I'll understand if you don't want to hug me anymore.
Really.

Love,
Rami

Hermit Prevention, or "Doing Things"

2009-06-13T22:08:00.006-04:00

David and I have always said that
we are not people who "do things."
That is true...of us.
Of the boys, not so true.
(This is evidenced by the exponential rate at which they become cranky when we try to loll around the living room on Shabbat, a la our pre-child days. It's not pretty.)

So, to prevent the boys from turning into antisocial hermits like ourselves,
(and mostly so they don't demand that we pay their therapy bills in 20 years)
we've been trying to "do things" on the weekends.

Today's "thing" was made necessary by my embarrassed realization
that, although Asher pores over books about the farm,
totally zones out to a movie about the farm ("Charlotte's Web",)
and is incapable of either sleeping or riding in the car without his many, many farm animal figurines,
he has never been to a farm or seen an actual farm animal.
(For shame!)

Once we found out that our city's metroparks include a working farm,
we were really out of excuses.

Holy Cow! (pun totally intended, thank you very much)
It was so incredibly cool to watch Asher realize that, unlike his dinosaur figurines,
his plastic cows and horses represent real, live things.

Yeah, at the end of the day, we can be pretty awesome parents after all. (Thanks for noticing.)

(Click on any of these photos to take you to the full farm set on Flickr, including some awesome shots of Rami and other all-natural things.)

______
This post is featured in this week's edition of Haveil Havalim, a Jewish blogging carnival. It is expertly hosted by Ima on the Bima and has allowed me to fill my morning with general awesomeness. Head on over and check out ! http://imabima.blogspot.com/2009/06/haveil-havalim-221-news-and-politics.html

The Sordid Tale

2009-06-08T20:18:00.002-04:00

Picture this:
An Ima who is desperate for a family photo.
After several badly (BADLY) botched professional attempts,
I had had enough.
ENOUGH!
We were going to get a family picture,
by G-d,
and we were going to get it this weekend.

At about 5:00 PM,
when the light was golden
but boys were cranky,
I decided it was now or never.

What do you do when you have 30 pictures of your family
Where one boy is looking
but the other looks miserable

or the other boy looks pleasant
and one looks very, very worried?

You cut the head off the pleasant boy
and sub it for the miserable one.

Then you print it really big on canvas, hang it in your house, and hope no one notices.
(Great job, Kim - you figured it out! FB me your preference of Jeni's flavor and I'll send it right to your house.)

Go here to see the whole set of (head-substituted) family photos.

In Which Ima Has No Shame

2009-06-07T08:11:00.004-04:00

I went to drastic measures to get this family picture.
Whoever figures out what Photoshopping I did first wins a pint of Jeni's. Just leave a comment.

(No, I'm absolutely not kidding. How's that for my first giveaway?)

(Yeah, I'll post the whole sordid tale later. For now I want to test your eyes.)

Things You Never Knew Until You Had a Sick Day*

2009-06-05T10:53:00.003-04:00

Playtime on the floor can happen without toys being stolen and without getting bashed on the head -

Long, quiet naps cuddled up next to Ima do not exist only in your wildest dreams -

And, although it is nice to have Ima all to yourself,
a big brother is still the best. thing. EVER.

_
*(Rami was running a fever after his six-month shots, but don't worry - today he's back to breaking hearts as usual.)

Ashi ♥s Jeni

2009-05-31T19:45:00.001-04:00

Dear Jeni,
With your delectably complex flavors,
inspired sundae creations,
and (most especially) your Ashi-sized spoons,
you have stolen my heart.
Love,
Ashi

(Visit Jeni on the web at http://jenisicecreams.com/.)

The Muddiest Boy Wins*

2009-05-30T11:23:00.003-04:00

"The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful."

~E.E. Cummings

___
*Thanks, Elle, for the nudge.

A Prayer for My Children - Rosh Chodesh Sivan

2009-05-23T21:59:00.000-04:00

I was reminded by the Homeshuler that it is traditional to offer a special prayer for one's children on Rosh Chodesh Sivan.

You can read the text of one such prayer here.

At the LittleHouse, we do Jewish things just a little bit differently. They are a bit more flexible, a little gentler, and more open to the belief that tradition is richer when it considers the contemporary.

With that in mind, here is a prayer for my children on Rosh Chodesh Sivan.

Before You, my G-d and G-d of my ancestors,

I set this prayer for my children:

I pray that they add more to the world than they take,

that they work every day toward its repair,

and that they walk through it with awareness of and humility before You.

I pray that they live full, healthy, secure, joyful lives,

and that if they cannot, that they are granted the disposition

to be truly happy with their lot.

I pray that they find a love that speaks to the deepest parts of their souls

and makes their lives worth living.

I pray that they become young men of whom their people can be proud.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to You, G-d, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Seen In the Personals

2009-05-22T06:14:00.000-04:00

Single Jewish Male

Enjoys lively dinners, lots of snuggling, and wearing as little clothing as possible.

(Sounds pretty good, right?)

Yeah, until you see the picture he attached:

(That's a deal breaker, ladies!)

Still interested in RamRam?

Leave a comment and we'll add you to the shidduch list.

(In case, you know, NevNev's not interested.)

Meet Bonnie ({sweet})

2009-05-21T08:20:00.000-04:00

Bonnie joined our family this past weekend.
She is a tomato plant.

The super-enthusiastic (!!!) sales lady gave me these care instructions:

Give it lots of water,
lots of sunlight,
lots of love,
(hope for the best,)
and it should bear some really sweet fruit.

I'm wondering:
was she really giving me advice about the plant
or about my boys in the shopping cart?

I guess it doesn't really matter -
in that regard, the tomatoes and the boys are about the same.
Except, of course, the boys are more delicious.

________
To see more {sweet}ness, visit Beth's blog. Thanks for the challenge, Beth!

Dining Al Fresco, Toddler Style

2009-05-16T20:19:00.003-04:00

Weekends can be rough here at the Little House;
Parents want to spend maximum Quality Time with boys.
Naps are sometimes (read: often) missed.
Some days, you can even witness things getting hairier by the hour.

Today was one such day.
Dinnertime rolled around and our nap-deprived Ashi was more highly strung than a Jack Russell terrier bouncing against the gate before a field trial.
My announcement of "Dinnertime!" was countered with Ashi's near-constant refrain,
"OSSIDE!"

"You want to eat outside?"

"Yesh!"

Recognizing that this may be the only way to get some dinner in the boy's belly, I set up to feed the boys on the front porch.

Asher wanted to share some of his yogurt with Rami.

Asher thought the resulting oozing was hilarious. Rami agreed.

Following the celebratory flinging of the yogurt, Rami was a mess, and Ashi still hadn't eaten dinner.

Boys 2, Ima 0.
Oh, well. There's always tomorrow.

{colors}

2009-05-15T17:05:00.003-04:00

On a lazy early evening this week,
a bucket of vibrant sidewalk chalk
and an equally, though uniquely, vibrant sky
were just calling my boys
to sit outside
and bask in their fabulousness.

The power of those colors on the boys,
I think,
is like the power of the boys on me.
The deliciousness of their smooth skin,
their lingering baby-scents,
and the sweetness of their expressions
beg for me
to just loaf around all evening, drinking them in.

Dinnertime be damned.

To see more {colors}, although I know I'm plenty late for the party, visit Beth's blog here. (Thanks for the challenge, Beth!)

Mother's Day - Epilogue

2009-05-13T08:54:00.003-04:00

Sometimes when you pick up your child
you can feel the map of your own bones beneath your hands,
or smell the scent of your skin in the nape of his neck.
This is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood -
finding a piece of yourself separate and apart
that all the same you could not live without.
~Jodi Picoult, "Perfect Match: A Novel"

Mother's Day - Chapter 2: The Good Stuff (or, Heartswells)

2009-05-12T08:52:00.003-04:00

Saturday Morning, 4 AM:
Asher cries out from his room. It's the "I'm having a nightmare" wail.
I squint at my clock and notice that it's much too early for us to Wake Up.
Asher's continued cries of anguish tell me that, although that may be true, he's not Going Back to Sleep.
I trudge into his room, retrieve the troubled boy. My agenda is to bring him to my bed and hope (against hope) that he snoozes, or at least lays quietly, next to me for at least another hour.

I whisper, "You have to be quiet like a mouse."
He solemnly holds an index finger to his lips and says, "Shhh." Understood.
I slide him into bed, then follow. He rolls toward me. Places chubby hands on my cheeks. Plants a big kiss. Exclaims, "Muah!" Heartswell. We both drift off.

Saturday Morning, 6 AM:
I rouse from sleep. Asher is rousing as well. Seeing my eyes opening, he grins. Heartswell #2.

Saturday Morning, 6:05 AM:
Asher surveys our kitchen. Extends his hands, palm up, elbows drawn in. Looks at me, confused. "Cake?"
So, off to the grocery we go.
To get cake for the boy, and the sacred Cream Filled Chocolate Frosted donut for Ima.
And Starbucks Coffee.
It's Mother's Day Weekend, y'all. We're going to enjoy it.

Saturday Afternoon, 3:00 PM:
Following a delish Shabbat lunch with the Buckeyes, Rami and I head upstairs for our Shabbos Schluffie.
As I am arriving at the edge of sleep, Rami fusses in his crib. Yes. He is unhappy, and just wants to make sure I'm aware of the fact. I can't nap with that in the background.
I trudge over to his crib, retrieve the cranky boy. I slide him into bed, then follow. He inclines his head toward mine, nuzzles his chubby cheek next to my nose. Sighs contentedly, smiles the Rami trademark smile. Heartswell #3.

Saturday Afternoon, 4:15 PM:
I awaken to see this. Heartswell #4.

Sunday morning, 6:30 AM:
David says that, this morning, we will do whatever I want.
I glance outside. The sun is coming out. It carries the promise of a delicious, golden light in about an hour.
I tell him I want to take pictures of the guys. At the wetlands park. Maybe, I will make it into the frame once or twice.
(This means that everyone needs to get gussied up and packed in the car in the next forty-five minutes. With two bleary-eyed, snot-nosed, pajama clad boys, this task is not for the faint of heart.)
David nods, agreeing without pause. Heartswell #5.

(Yes, I did make it into the frame a few times, thanks for asking. But that's for "Mother's Day -Epilogue.")

Sunday, 1:00 PM:
Asher naps. Rami and I wander outside, seeking a distraction as we await the arrival of our Mother's Day Picnic company.
I notice the gorgeous sky above and the lush grass below.
Cloud-watching? Why not?
Rami, who normally kicks, rolls, and yells when placed on the floor,
lets his arms and legs relax when placed in the grass.
He is the picture of serenity. His face is calmly attentive.
I spread out alongside him in the grass, trying to take in whatever his eyes see.
He is so beautiful. Heartswell #6.

Sunday, 1:15 PM:
Our guests arrive. Savta enjoys a moment to greet Rami. Heartswell #7.

Sunday, 2:05 PM:
Despite the gorgeous day, we have the park to ourselves.
Asher relishes in the playground and I recline while eating egg salad on
All Butter Croissants (I cannot emphasize that enough.)
Heartswells #8 &9.

Sunday, 8:45 PM:
David and I relax together over a dinner he made and wine he poured.
He starts to tell me what a wonderful Ima I am.
That he appreciates how much I do for our family.
That I make the best little boys.
I look into his gorgeous chocolate eyes and realize that I am looking into the same eyes that Rami will have, sooner than I can believe. Heartswell #10.
David rubs my feet, and doesn't mind that I'm drifting off to sleep already.

As you can see, the Good Stuff and not the Stuff, is what really made Mother's Day Weekend.
(And yes, I have noticed that pretty much all the Good Stuff involves eating or sleeping.)

Thank you, Mom, Dad, Steve, and Al.
Thank you, boys.
Thank you, David.
(You make the food worth eating and the naps worth taking.)

Mother's Day - Chapter 1: The Stuff

2009-05-11T10:23:00.000-04:00

Last year I said all I wanted from Ashi was something he made for me.
I didn't think I meant it.
(Yes, of course I did want something Ashi made, but also:
dozens of roses, diamond earrings, singing telegrams, etc. etc.
Hey, I work hard.)

Then I got that beautiful, perfect card and I was won over.
I seriously didn't need a single extra thing to feel like mother's day had been celebrated.

This year's school-project card yield was only better
for being doubled.

I woke up to flowers and candy
that David planned to use
to get great pictures of the guys:

A book of beautiful photos (from Mom), and
the most vibrant of flowers (from Steve):

and last but most certainly not least,
chocolate-covered goodies (dipped by hand)
and a pound of darkest-roast gourmet coffee (not pictured)
from the adored Auntie Al:

Thank you.

Oh, the haul this year was truly awesome.
It made me feel appreciated by, and precious to,
each member of my family.

(But it was nothing compared to Chapter 2: "The Good Stuff." Stay tuned.)

Mother's Day: Prologue

2009-05-10T18:30:00.004-04:00

Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just)
They know a simple, merry, tender knack
Of tying sashes, fitting baby shoes,
And stringing pretty words that make no sense,
And kissing full sense into empty words.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A Growing Boy

2009-05-08T06:52:00.002-04:00

My baby has started to eat solid food.

He devours the baby-cereal-mush and pureed produce with gusto.
His deliciously-rolled thighs
and rubber-band wrists
excitedly pump back and forth
as the spoon approaches.
His mouth stretches open
in anticipation.
The food goes in,
the boy swallows -
(he allows hardly any to ooze back out,
as the eating novice is wont to do) -
and grins, demonstrating his
absolute delight in this tastiness.

While he revels,
a slight pang of sadness pinches my mostly-happy heart.
The box of baby oatmeal in my pantry
and rubber-covered spoons in my cabinet
mean that my tiny guy is growing up.

Soon he won't need bottles.
Soon he'll be walking.
Soon he'll be able to prepare his own food.
Soon he'll be a young man, no longer my tiny boy.

But then I notice that his eyelashes are encrusted
with the liquid-pasty mixture.
Then I see it in his belly button.
Then I glimpse it smeared between
those delectable toes of his
and I remember
that he's still tiny enough
to laugh as I idly kiss those toes for hours
(as I am wont to do.)

And I think -
maybe I don't have to get quite so sad -
just yet.

Sunset Splash

2009-05-04T20:49:00.000-04:00

"Remember to play
after every storm." ~Mattie Stepaneck

Parshah for Parenting: Acharei Mot-Kedoshim 5769

2009-05-01T08:51:00.000-04:00

This week's portion includes the instruction
to leave the corners of our fields unharvested
so that the poor in the community may gather them and be fed.
Rashi comments on this instruction
that anyone who fulfills it
is like someone who built the holy Temple
and offered sacrifices therein.

In other words,
doing something to positively affect the world
is equal (or greater) to
being in audience with the Holy One.

These days,
most of us don't have fields
to leave unharvested.
We do, however, have
our homes
our daily work
our families and friendships
our children.

When we use these things
to change the world for the better -
make our personal spaces ones of beauty, comfort, truth,
give some of the income that sustains us to help sustain others
do actions and speak words that show those dear to us how we love them

and raise our children
with the expectation
that they will give more to the world
than they take from it -

it is as though we have built the Temple

and offered sacrifices therein.

Sick weekend

2009-04-27T21:28:00.000-04:00

This weekend, three quarters of our little family was hit with a merciless, weekend-ruining stomach bug.

It hit Asher on Friday.
Then Abba on Saturday.
Then Ima on Sunday.

We were all pretty sick.
We're talking laid-up-on-the-couch,
can't-move-a-muscle,
(would-rather-be-in-labor)
kind of sick.

At various moments on Sunday,
one or the other of us
managed to hoist up the camera
so I could document this little adventure for you all.

Asher indulged in an unorthodox, middle-of-the-floor nap:

A lot of time was spent with Sesame Street clips via Abba's laptop:

After that, Asher lounged for hours without pants
but with his favorite shoes (thanks Logie):

As we enjoyed a good long sit outside at dusk on Sunday
(the first time we made it out of the house all weekend)
Asher improved our spirits (and our toes and legs, obviously)
by artfully coating them in watercolors.

The whole time,

I mourned the wasted weekend
tried to keep my achy eyes open

so that I could capture more precious minutes

with my little guys.

I knew I was missing out.

I hated it.

But, reviewing these photos,

I realized -

we were okay.

Naps happened (even if mid-floor,)

boys did not go (completely) naked,

art projects occurred,

time together was had.

Yes, it was a sick weekend,

but a weekend all the same.

We'll just have to make this next one

that much more awesome.

5 months old

2009-04-24T14:25:00.000-04:00

Dear Rami,
Today you are five months old.
Every time I kiss your face,
your usually exuberant smile
shifts to one of
quiet, contented delight.
This trait, especially,
endears you to me
more than I can express.
Love,
Ima

{letters}

2009-04-22T13:52:00.000-04:00

"You will only expect a few words - what will those be?
When the heart is full it may run over,
but the real fullness stays within.
Words can never tell you -
however, form them, transform them anyway -
how perfectly dear you are to me
perfectly dear to my heart and soul."
~From Robert Browning to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 12 September 1846

On Tuesday nights, I get to lead a dinnertime Jewish text study at Hillel.
(Jewish wisdom studied - and continued - by the brightest of students. Amazing.)
Consequently, my very late arrival at our humble abode
occurs as an endcap to David's very long day,
after Asher's bedtime,
and at the end of Rami's rope.

In our family's division of labor,
I am generally in charge
of the food in our bellies
and the prayers on our lips.

So, in my absence, a Tuesday letter is left
alongside a slow-cooker dinner
to remind the men in my life
that these things have not been forgotten.

The content remains mostly the same week after week:

"Hello my loves -
Asher: I hope you had a fun day. Please do not forget to say your Shema. I love you.
Rami: I hope you had a good day. I will be home soon for snuggles and love. Please be good to Abba in the meantime. I love you.
David: Dinner is in the slow cooker. I love you like coffee in the morning (or alternate similie.)"

These letters are written in a bound book,
page after page repetitive from week to week,
not because the instruction is needed
or because my return is uncertain
or because my love for the guys is unknown to them

but because the letter represents
the part of my heart that waits for them at home
on nights when I do not.

(Check out more letters here.)

Passover 5769: Epilogue

2009-04-17T07:52:00.000-04:00

One amazing thing about Passover is that it offers a respite from the daily grind, usually when it is desperately needed.
Two days of that whole "no-work" thing in the middle of two consecutive weeks proved, once again, to be a breath of fresh air.
After a morning where nothing was accomplished except the all important Breakfast and Naptime, the boys and I enjoyed a delicious holiday lunch (made all the more delicious because I didn't have to cook it) with some fabulous Buckeyes, and returned home for a full afternoon of nothing-much-at-all planned.

As I deposited armfuls of stuff just inside the door, my ears were alerted to a suddenly whiny boy.
Asher's arm poked insistently back toward the door. "Osside!"

Outside was wet. And muddy. And chilly. And misting. Did I mention wet?

Hoping to preserve the dignity of my hair and the cleanliness of our floors (both leaving much to be desired in the first place,) I tried to direct Asher toward pursuits of the less-wet-and-muddy variety. "Asher, look! Wouldn't you like to play with your animals? Or your cars?"

A tiny foot was stamped, the level of whine increased, and the arm continued to jab at the door.
"OssIDE! OSS-IDE!!!"

Clearly I suffered some mental deficiency that prevented me from seeing the clear need to be outside.

Or I was just plain mean.

Or profoundly un-fun.

I glanced at Rami, solidly snoozing, despite the ruckus, in his car seat. This didn't help my cause.

Asher's pleading eyes remained fixed on mine.

So, outside we went.

The work involved mostly finding pinecones and throwing them.

Occasionally, the soccer ball was carried and deposited elsewhere.

Then, of course, we had to run up hills and back down again.

Which caused a tumble, which caused dirty hands, which abruptly ended Asher's fun.

Both Ima and boy were now thoroughly sodden and muddied.
A good time was had by all (including Rami, who enjoyed an unusually quiet nap.)

Outside?
Yes, Asher. That was a great idea.

{Rustic}

2009-04-16T07:43:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago,
it was dreary outside.
Inside our house
was a sunny boy
with a bright red balloon.

David decided
to contribute some of our sunshine
to the overcast sky.

Here's the shot.*

_____
*In an effort to share more of my shots of the boys without the requirement of brilliant flashes of inspiration for posts, I'm going to try one of these "photo-challenge-of-the-week" gigs.
If it seems tacky,or annoying, or boring,or altogether uninspired just say so in the comments....(you know I crave your approval.)

Young Celebrity (or at least lookalike)

2009-04-15T07:51:00.000-04:00

Rami got his first shoutout in the blogosphere!
(Oh, the milestones we mark in the 21st century.)

Check him (and the fabulous blogger) out here.

On birthdays

2009-04-14T08:24:00.000-04:00

{My dad's birthday, circa 1978. He was clearly partying enough for the both of us.}

Today is my birthday.

I love my birthday as much as the next person -
how could you not, with all the good wishes, fun presents, and the cake (oh, the cake!)?

I have learned one surprising thing about birthdays since I became an Ima:

I never anticipated
that one day my birthday
would mean far, far less to me
than the birthdays of my children.

You see, I believe that we are defined by the people that surround us.
On the day that I was born, I became someone. Just someone.

On the day my children were born, however,

I became an Ima.

Someone who feeds and loves and hugs

someone who kisses hurt fingers to make them all better

someone who is sought to quash the scariest of nightmares.

(And this made me realize...)
On the day my siblings were born, I became a sister.
Someone who got to share childhood memories, whispered secrets, and love-piles.

Someone who understands family dramas and jokes alike.

Someone who snuggled under the covers on weekend mornings well into teen-dom.

Someone who is a best friend through thick and thin.

So, while I still love my birthday,
It's not the day on which my heart sings in celebration.
I actually get a lot more excited about my Ima-birthdays and my sister-birthdays.

(So, do you think I could get some cake on those days, too? Did I mention how much I love cake?)
____
What is the greatest lesson you have learned about birthdays?

A Zissen Pesach

2009-04-08T15:44:00.000-04:00

In each generation, every individual must look at him or herself as though he or she had personally made the Exodus from Egypt, as it is said,
"You shall tell your children on that day, 'it is because of what Adonai did for me when I went free out of Egypt.'" (from the Passover Haggadah)

In other words,

We are part of a story
but the only reason we must tell it
is for the sake of our children
who will then become part of the story
and then tell it to their children.

Children learn in many different ways.
Our Passover celebrations provide several different methods
for teaching them the story
of the Exodus from Egypt.
One of those is getting rid of all our leavened products for the week.

(If it were not for this beautiful and compelling drash,
there is absolutely no way
I would have been freezing my tuchus off
at the crack of dawn
teaching my 21-month-old
to burn Ritz crackers
on our porch.)

May your Seders be awesome and your Passover sweet.

{also enjoy some more snaps from our Passover preparations this past week}

Parshah for Parenting - Tzav 5769

2009-04-02T21:47:00.000-04:00

Well, we're on to the second portion in the book of Leviticus.
Which means writing "Parsha for Parenting" just got a lot more difficult.
You see, the book of Leviticus is all about the sacrifices in the Temple.
It talks all about the sacrifices:
When, Who, Why, How
Even what to wear.

Of course, Jews no longer offer sacrifices at the Temple.
I've heard of precocious children, in preparation for a bar mitzvah around this time of year,
trying to re-enact the ancient Temple rites.

This afternoon I was home alone with two boys and dozens of pounds of meat to freeze.
Rami was characteristically content to remain strapped into his car seat, observing.
In the midst of dividing chicken cutlets and stew beef,
I realized Ashi was sounding busy but quiet...

(Do you think he has Leviticus on the brain?)

Anatomy of a Photo Shoot

2009-03-28T20:27:00.000-04:00

I have created a monster.
It started off with buying a nicer camera so we could get good snapshots.
One year, a second lens, and a sad attempt at an in-home studio setup later,
and my husband is saying things like,
"I think it was a pretty good day,
even if we didn't get any great pictures."

Today I thought I'd try out a new backdrop
while getting a gorgeous shot of the boys together
with natural light that was mediocre at best.
Ha! (Here's what actually happened.)

Knock Me a Kiss

2009-03-24T08:39:00.000-04:00

The scene:
A weekday morning, in the calm before the daily storm. A boy is sitting on the couch, cup of cheerios in one hand, milk in the other. His little body is bastioned with blankets, in which he takes particular comfort and delight -
(a trait inherited from his Ima.)

He looks up, expectantly, with lips puckered.

A parent's heart sings,

"He wants a kiss! From me!

After carrying him for nine months,
sitting up through sleepless nights,
enduring snotty noses and temper tantrums,
here at long last I gaze upon
his appreciation of my tenderness for him!
And his return of that love!

O, bliss!"

Bending down to return this sweet kiss,
the parent is suddenly confused.

The boy shakes his head, now puckering more emphatically.
The puckerer pauses to insist, "Fees!"

Ah.

Recognition.

He wants me to make a fish face.

Oh, well. That's pretty cute too.

Parsha for Parenting - Vayachel-Pekudei 5769

2009-03-19T12:59:00.000-04:00

This week's Torah portion
contains more detail about the mishkan.
A midrash on this portion
reminds us that its language is close to that of the story of Creation
which means that the reason G-d wanted the Israelites to build a sanctuary
is to allow them to mimic Him
in creating things of beauty in the world.

Why are humans driven to create beauty
when G-d's world is already so beautiful?

It helps us to capture the fleeting feelings
of life's little gorgeous moments
in a way that resonates with us.
It helps us deal with the fact
that we can never live those moments again.
It gives us a personal, lasting connection
to that which we hold dear
and to the holiness inherent in it-
and to share it with others.

(So, is that a good enough reason for me to be so obsessed with my camera/this blog?)

(And now for a gratuitous shot of the boys cuddled up on the couch from some morning this week - creating beauty without even knowing it.)

Wranglers Winter 09 - A Tribute

2009-03-16T11:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Wranglers -

Cori, who goes up and down the Hillel steps with endless patience;
David, who gives such great snuggles;
Allison, who knows the location of every star in the building;
Sarah, who loves every baby in the world to pieces;
Aryn, who hangs with us all night after hanging with other babies all day;
Samantha, who doesn't mind even spitup down her shirt;
Elle, who legendarily made both of us laugh in one night; and
Sarah, who knows that nekkie time equals happy time -
(and everyone else who has ever loved, cuddled, fed, kissed, or tickled us
while our Ima was teaching, hosting, or leading,)

Thank you

for teaching us,
each and every Shabbat,
(and sometimes during the week),
what being Jewish is all about-

taking care of each other
(even if it's been a long week
even if we're tired
and sometimes cry
and many times spit up on you)
and celebrating together
and watching each other grow
and making each other laugh.

Good luck on your finals,
have a great Spring Break.
We'll see you in April.

Love,
Ashi and Rami

Parshah for Parenting - Ki Tisa 5769

2009-03-12T11:52:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago, G-d commanded the Israelites to build a mishkan.
He was very specific in His instructions.
This week, we meet Betzalel.
G-d tells Moses that He has endowed Betzalel with
the wisdom, knowledge, and skill
necessary to create everything in the mishkan.

Thousands of years later, Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen
teaches the Torah of the Creation of the World*
when one of the world's light-containing vessels broke,
the light was scattered,
and, suddenly, there was a lot of cleanup to do.

She says that

the whole human race is a response to this need.

Each person doing a little tikkun olam
in his own way.
We are exactly what's needed to heal the world.
G-d has endowed each of us
with the wisdom, knowledge, and skill,
to meet His world's needs.

(Looking at my boys' sweet faces
I wonder -
What amazing things
will these tiny people
one day accomplish?
I can't wait to find out.)

____
*You can hear Dr. Remen tell this story here.

Birds

2009-03-08T18:37:00.000-04:00

On a balmy weekend morning
when Abba and Ima wanted
to lounge on the couch
drink some coffee
and eat some pancakes
(the first pancakes seen in these parts since the Bar ended)

Asher decided instead
that the thing to do was
to run outside
looking for birds.

(It helps if you flap your wings.)

(Don't forget your lunchbox.)

Parshah for Parenting - Tetzaveh 5769

2009-03-06T13:56:00.000-05:00

This week's Torah portion is all about clothes -

a description,
in meticulous detail,
about what the high priests
have to wear to work.

We learn from this portion

that you are who you are

but your clothes help you

do what you do.

(They are an outer expression of one's inner self.)

I've posted once about Ashi's fashion sense.
But I've never posted about his first true love:

hats.

Ashi is just not Ashi without a hat -
the scarlet-and-gray striped (thanks Melissa)
the penguin
or, the new favorite, the monkey (thanks Tricia*).
When he's wearing a hat, my Asher is the very essence of his name:

happy.

This Shabbat, on parshat Tetzaveh,
I bless my boys that they
will always find ways
to outwardly express
their inner selves.

_______
*Tricia custom-made this monkey hat just for us. You can visit her etsy store here and get one of your own!

Mishenichnas Adar/When Adar Begins

2009-02-26T05:23:00.000-05:00

משנכנס אדר
מרבין בשמחה
When Adar* begins
everyone's joy increases.

(Talmud Bavli Ta'anit 29a)

(Apparently,
Asher didn't get
the memo.)

__________
*Adar is the month on the Jewish calendar containing Purim, a holiday that celebrates the events of the book of Esther and during which we wear costumes and do other joy-filled things.

Parshah for Parenting - Terumah 5769

2009-02-25T14:59:00.000-05:00

(you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him....And let them make Me a mishkan that I may dwell among them. Exodus 25:2,8)

Gifts of gold, and silver, and brass,
of fine fabrics, spices, and oils,
of precious stones.

The Israelites built this structure not so G-d could dwell in it,
but so that He could dwell among them.
No Israelite could do it alone - everyone's effort brought His presence into the community.

In our house, we have a mishkan.
It's made up kisses from Ashi,
smiles and giggles from Rami,

a morning "Modeh Ani" with Abba,

and a bedtime "Shema" with Ima,

extra morning minutes spent cuddling on the couch,

extra love baked into the cookies,

one more book read together,
one more answer to Ashi's constant question, "What's that?"

an extra round of "Mishenichnas Ashi/Rami,"

an extra minute tacked onto bathtime.

All given with a willing heart. All bringing a little more holiness into the house.
G-d dwells among us,
even though the house isn't adorned with rich fabrics or fine stones.

(In fact, our house is pretty much a disaster.)

RamRam & NevNev

2009-02-21T19:55:00.000-05:00

Dear Nevoh,

Thank you for inviting me to your naming ceremony.

It was my first big trip out of state,

but I only had eyes for you.

Please forgive me

for throwing up

on your sleep sack.

I hope you love me still.

Love,

Rami

Parshah for Parenting - Mishpatim 5769

2009-02-19T10:44:00.000-05:00

"Mishpatim" means "laws."
After the spectacle of the
giving of the Ten Commandments
at Sinai
comes a
long
list of
laws.
Non-spectacular.
Won't stop you in your tracks.
But Torah all the same.
Amazing all the same.

The day to day moments with the boys
are, by and large,
non-spectacular.
But they're amazing all the same.
Breathtaking
(just in their own way)

2009-02-15T16:59:00.000-05:00

A good laugh

is sunshine
in the house.

~William Makepeace Thackeray

Parsha* for Parenting - Yitro 5769

2009-02-12T08:57:00.001-05:00

This week's Torah portion includes the commandment,

"Honor your father and your mother."

The Talmud** comments*** on this verse
that there are three partners in the creation of a child:

his father,
his mother,
and G-d.

It also comments that a child represents
his parents' invitation for G-d to dwell among them.

(Well, obviously.)

__
*"Parsha" refers to the section of Torah that is read every week.
** The Talmud is a record of rabbinic commentary, law, and stories from around the year 500.
***Kiddushin 30b