Baby Shoes

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?

A recent walking training session with Rami:

"Are You Hoping for a Girl?"

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

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

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

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*

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

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

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

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"

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

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

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)

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

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.

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

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

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.)