Shabbat Video Update: Episode 4, "Rami Loves the Honey Bear"

About Shabbat Video Updates: Many of our readers (namely the Ohio State folks) got their weekly Kopans kids fix on Shabbat at Hillel. We're going to make that fix easy for you to continue to get each and every week, move to Kansas City be damned. Shabbat Shalom Umevorach from the Kopans bayit to you!

For some reason, this video has 5 seconds of dead air after the opening title.*  Wait it out to see Rami in full-on sweetie pie mode.




____
*"For some reason" = "Because I can't really be bothered to master my video-making software right now."  Maybe someday, when I'm less busy.  (Who am I kidding?)

Shabbat Video Update, Episode 3 - "We Are Going to Be Friends"

About Shabbat Video Updates: Many of our readers (namely the Ohio State folks) got their weekly Kopans kids fix on Shabbat at Hillel. We're going to make that fix easy for you to continue to get each and every week, move to Kansas City be damned. Shabbat Shalom Umevorach from the Kopans bayit to you!

Since last week's video update was so Nesi-heavy, this week it's boys only.  Enjoy! 

Nesi Loves You.

I love you.

Yes, YOU!

Hello, handsome.

Hi, beautiful! 

I love you so much.

Unless you want to stop gushing over me.

Or talk to someone else.

Or break eye contact with me.  At all.

Or make any noise whatsoever while I'm sleeping in your arms.
(Shhh!)
 

But why would you want to do that?

After all, I love you so.  Very.  Much.

Don't you love me, too?

(Why yes, it has been a rough three months!)

From the Parenting Trenches: Buckle Up - It's Rami's Tantrum Hour.

It all started innocently enough.

Rami found a neglected canister of play-dough languishing in our back yard.

Did you know that, when exposed to extreme heat and back-to-back thunderstorms for a couple of weeks, play-dough pales in color and turns to the consistency of home caulking material?



Neither did I.

Rami was fascinated at first...then annoyed....


but then decided to mourn his melted play-substance.

This took the form of a slow, whining cry.  I could tell that things would escalate quickly when Rami, himself dissolving into an inconsolable mess, snotted all over my shoulder and smeared the blue goop through the fistful of hair just above my right ear.  

"Okay, everybody inside!" I chirped in my best 'Enthusiastic Ima' impression.  I shuttled the pouting children into the downstairs bathtub (for which I was at that moment uttering prayers of gratitude.) Rami kicked the sniffly-screams up a notch because, despite how upset he was about the pale blue gooeyness covering his hands and now his feet (seriously?  how???), apparently the prospect of washing it off was even more upsetting.

As I squeaked the cold-water faucet on, a frigid blast came shooting out of the shower head and doused Rami.  (David hadn't turned the shower-faucet off before the water-faucet.  Thanks, honey!)  All hell broke loose.  A gasping and sputtering Rami keened the injustice being heaped upon him and demanded hugs, which I administered.  He hadn't counted on being returned to the bathtub, though, and so the real tantrum started when I returned him to the water for an actual washing (O, the humanity!)

Rami, eyes crazed and drool pouring from his mouth, seized my Venus razor and held it to his throat.  Unmoved, I doused his goopy hair with water.  As I sloshed a handful of shampoo over his head, he slung the razor at his brother's face.  His screams now began to border on ear-splitting.

Following a desperate performance of The Fastest Bath Ever, I trudged up the stairs with a screaming baby tucked under each arm and managed to open the safety gate with my pinky finger, thankyouverymuch. (Asher, the dear child, quickly figured out what was best for him, and had been obeying my every command without whine or protest since the shower-malfunction incident.)


I  set Rami down in order to piece together some semblance of dinner, to which he responded by hurling his 23-pound body an impressive distance across the living room floor.  I seized the opportunity afforded me and used my free hand to sling a frozen waffle into the toaster oven and a pan on the stove for scrambled eggs.  After processing my frigid lack of pity, he decided the best way to punish me would be to attach himself to my body until he got What He Wanted (an elusive and shifting thing, yet to be identified.)


(observe the broken blood vessels in the eyes)

I shuffled through the steps of assembling breakfast-for-dinner like a father penguin balancing an egg between his toes.  (But instead of a sweet penguin chick, remember, there was a red, hollering, leaking 20-month-old clinging to my yoga pants.)  I plopped syrup onto waffles (homemade and whole wheat! parenting points for me!) and nudged scrambled eggs onto tray and plate.  

Hoisting the blubbering Rami into his high chair, the din almost instantaneously subsided.






It seemed that dinner was What He Wanted. 


I took a deep breath.  Nesi paused her eating momentarily to look up at me and flash a grin.  My goodness, but these children are sweet.  What were we so upset about, again? 

I sat down at the table, ran a hand through disheveled hair, felt something wet and gross.  Oh, that's right - the blue goop.
 

About 20 minutes later Abba arrives home, to adoration and accolade.  I am grateful for his presence, and for the now-quiet children.  Most of all I am grateful for the moment I then get to steal away to a steaming shower, and the sight of the blue goop streaming away from my hair and down the drain.

Shabbat Video Update: Episode 2, "New Soul"

About Shabbat Video Updates: Many of our readers (namely the Ohio State folks) got their weekly Kopans kids fix on Shabbat at Hillel. We're going to make that fix easy for you to continue to get each and every week, move to Kansas City be damned. Shabbat Shalom Umevorach from the Kopans bayit to you!


This week's episode, "New Soul," is basically a gratuitous string of clips of Nesi doing cute things like smiling and yawning.  (Because that's pretty much all she can do so far.)  Cameos by Asher.  Maximum cuteness to be found in the last 30 seconds.  Stay till the end to see the best smiles or just to hear the end of this awesome song.  Thanks for stopping by!

Shabbat Video Update: Episode 1, "And On His Farm He Had a Cow/Monkey"

About Shabbat Video Updates:  Many of our readers (namely the Ohio State folks) got their weekly Kopans kids fix on Shabbat at Hillel.  We're going to make that fix easy for you to continue to get each and every week, move to Kansas City be damned.  Shabbat Shalom Umevorach from the Kopans bayit to you!

This Week's Episode, "And On His Farm He Had a Cow/Monkey," demonstrates Rami's command of animal sounds.  Or, erm, lack thereof.

Many Are the Moments

Many

are

the moments

of parenthood

when,

instead of

getting 

angry

you have to 

take

a deep breath

and get your camera

 

instead.

Asher is Three (Birthday Interview)

Asher is three years old now, and a certified Big Boy. 
Since he can't keep his mouth shut like, ever his language skills are pretty impressive, (meaning: he speaks in full sentences with an average-sized vocabulary.  I'm not pretending to have a future President Kopans on my hands.  Or am I?) I decided to take a cue from Beth over at I Should Be Folding Laundry, who does a birthday interview with her kids every year.

(showing us how old he is)

Hi, Asher.  Hi, Ima.  Hey, Ima?
Yes, Asher?  It's my birfday, and I have fireworks on my birfday, and I'm fwee years old.

Okay.  I'm going to ask you some questions, can you answer them?  Um, maybe, so....okay.

What big boy things can you do?  I have fireworks on my birfday!!!
Uh huh. Are you excited? Yeah.  Why? Where did my Saba and Uncle Steve go?
What are your favorite foods? Chocolate milk!

What else? Pasta! Ima cheese! (that's what David calls Parmesan because I like it so much) Pickles!

You don’t like pickles! I DO like pickles.

What else? Uh...uh....uh...maybe…orange juice! (David: “That’s not food!”) That IS food, Abba!
Big eggs (trans: scrambled eggs,) pizza, edamame, pizza, bah-ka (babka).” I do like chock-it (chocolate). Ima, I need some wah-dder (water).

What letters do you know? I don’t know. Ima, so…maybe. I know the letter A.
What’s the letter A for? …and B for bear, and bat, and…and…blue, and black, and and so, maybe, S, and maybe, hmm…
Do you know any other letters? Um, maybe. Um, no! Not sure.
What’s the letter A for? Asher!
What else? Abba and Auntie Al. I’m eating my pizza, Ima! (note: this interview largely took place during dinner because that's the only way I could get him to sit still for more than two minutes.)

(blowing out candles with a little help from Abba)

Where is your favorite place to go? The Zoo. The farm at Kansas City.

What’s your favorite animal? “Oh-fant(elephant)!   Hippo, too. They march in the wah-dder and hippos open their mouth in the wah-dder. And ken-winns (penguins) too, Ima!!! And, hmm…what’s Rami’s fay-vit animal?
What is Rami’s favorite animal?  Tigers!  What’s your fay-vit animal?
I like turtles.  Oh. No, your fay-vit animal is a shark!  Savta likes giraffes. And Saba’s fay-vit animal is a zebra. Aaaand Uncle Steve’s fay-vit animal is a…mmm…only…Uncle Steve’s fay-vit animal is a polar bear! And Saba’s fay-vit animal is a brown bear. No, Rami’s is brown bears. (Looks at Rami) Rami, eat your food you got!

(Loving on his very own Woody toy)

What song do you like best? Diego.
Diego? You don’t like any other songs? No.
What is your favorite game to play? Oh-fants!
How do you play elephants? Drink water!
Um...okay.  What about Latkes (trans: tackle)? Make-oo lah-kah! Like-iss! (Flops flat on the floor)

What’s your favorite color? Buh-lue. Cachol. Blue, Ima. Blue’s my fay-vit color. What’s your fay-vit color?
Pink  Oh! Pink. What’s Rami’s fay-vit color?
I don’t know. What is Rami’s favorite color? Gween.  What’s Auntie Al’s fay-vit color?
I don’t know.  It’s gray.
No, I think it’s pink.  No, it’s gray. And Saba, he likes, Saba likes gween and oh-wange. And Rivky likes black, and Boone likes black, he likes black and white, and Shadow likes orange. And Boone’s face is white, and…and…and…Rivky’s toes are black.  (Rivky, Boone, and Shadow are the family dogs.)
Who is in your family? I don’t know.  Ashi, and Abba, and Baby Sister, and Ima, and RAMI!!! and Savta and Auntie Al and Saba and Uncle Tad and Uncle Steve too!
Is anyone else in your family? Uncle Tad. And what else? What else, Ima?
What else?  I don't know. Savta too, Ima.

(cupcakes and candles with the Ohio crew via Skype)

What’s your favorite time of the day, daytime or nighttime? “I don’t know, the sun is awake! It was dark osside, I was at the zoo, the sun came out now, behind the giwaffe. I poiting wite there, the sky. See!”


What song do we sing in the morning? Uh, I don’t know. Our modeh.
 What song do we sing at night? Our Shema!


Who loves you? Saba! Savta! SABA!
Does anyone else love you? Savta! Auntie Al! And Uncle Tad…and Uncle Steve!

Look what I made for you while you were sleeping. “Pukkycakes (cupcakes)! I’m not going to drop it on the floor. It was an accident.

(Custom-for-Ashi Toy Story Cupcakes)

Okay.  Ashi, thank you for talking to me on your third birthday.  Yeh-kkum. (You're welcome.)
Happy Birthday, sweetie.  Thanks, Ima.

Three Years Old

Dear Asher,

The other day, you, Rami, Nesi and I were snuggling on the couch while Nesi ate and we all watched a movie.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw your little eyelids drooping, then your sweet head trying its mightiest to stay up.  You fell fast asleep there, wedged between the arm of the couch and your sister's bottom.

As I hoisted you into my arms for the trip upstairs and to your bed, your arms automatically wrapped around my shoulders.  I noticed that your feet dangled nearly to my knees now.
My mind flashed back to the first weeks of your life, when, if I held you like this, your toes would brush my waist.

  Over the past week, I have sat down several times to write this post, and become discouraged when my heart tends toward the melancholy.  I realized that I am a mother whose children are growing at what I'm certain is a pace quicker than is possible. Birthday blog posts tend to focus on "firsts" - first smiles, first teeth, first words, first steps. These things are simple to mark, very exciting, filled with pride.  But "lasts?"  We don't often pause to think of these until they have gone by, perhaps years after the fact.

With your head resting sleep-heavily on my shoulder, I wondered -  

Is this the last time I will carry this boy, fast asleep, up the stairs for a midday nap?  

If it was, how would I know?  And, given that my head, schedule, and arms were all full to the brim at that moment, how would I mark the occasion, even if I had known?

Your first three years have flown by.  I am convicted that there is so much more I could have absorbed out of your babyhood, so many more sweet moments I could have gleaned from it, had I only been less exhausted from school and work, less busy with the house, less preoccupied with everything, less worried about the future, less transitory, and certainly less pregnant with your brother and sister.  But now, to be sure, you are no longer a baby.  (You will tell anyone who asks - you are a Big Boy.)  Any "lasts" have long since passed, and wait for me to discover them only as I notice the holes they have left.

I am not writing this letter for you.  At least, not you now.  I write it for myself, certainly, but also for a future you who I pray experiences this exact same curiously joyful heartache.  To raise a bonafide child up from a  helpless infant leaves spaces in your heart that hold the promise of being filled by some as-yet-unknown substance. To believe this, and to hold it as a comfort, requires tremendous faith.


Some of those spaces are beginning to be filled - your reluctance to walk into your preschool classroom has shifted to indifference, and, now, eager anticipation.  Surprisingly, hearing "I want to go to school." brings me just as much joy as the guilty pleasure of a little boy who doesn't want to part from me at the schoolroom door.

You no longer need me in the middle of the night, but something tells me that my presence will become indispensable at some other crucial time of day - after school, perhaps, and later, staying up to see you home at curfew to let you know that it does matter to me that you are safe and sound at home.
Less and less, you require my attention during the day.  You've learned to amuse yourself with your little brother, your best friend and tackle buddy.  Soon, I know, you'll be gone from the house in the afternoons and on weekends, sharing meals and secrets with school friends.  (Rami, I pray, will never be farther from your heart than your closest friends, no matter what your age.)


You are able to make good decisions for yourself more often. You know you shouldn't throw your food on the floor.  You have learned  that standing on the back of the couch is not worth the risk.  Though the ability to judge right from wrong, and safe from unsafe, will develop far more as you experience the world outside our little home, I know that the training and influence you received within its walls will be the biggest things that made it possible.

You are learning to be a good Jew.  You know that God gives us our food and everything that we own.  You know that extraordinary events, such as hearing thunder, are marked with a blessing.  You are overjoyed when Shabbat starts.  You recognize that the day is special, and that it is a part of who you are.  You ask to say your "Modeh" every morning and your "Shema" every night, and you join in the words of the prayer when Abba or I say them.  More and more, you know how being a Jew affects your day-to-day life.


You are learning how to love - how to be a good son and brother.  Now you know, for example, that tears, whether in my eyes or Rami's or Nesi's, are helped by a kiss and a hug, and you eagerly oblige.  Your capacity and desire to care for others makes my heart sing, and I know that you will create and hold onto loving relationships wherever your life takes you.


You are learning how to have fun.  When I inflate an air mattress, you jump on it.  When we play outside in your little pool and I drench you with water, you understand that it is a well-meant gesture, and readily play along, continuing the game.  When you see a vaccuum cleaner sitting idle, you flip it on its belly and make it into a horse.  Your talent for finding joy in everyday life is deepening day by day.




I am sad to see you growing up and away from me.  I am delighted because I can see, so very clearly, that each year, though you get farther from babyhood, you are going somewhere incredible. 
 

I'm so proud of you, my sweet boy, and I love you so very much.

Happy Birthday.

Love, 
Ima