The Cure for Insomnia

Asher's been staying up way past his bedtime.
We're not exactly sure why,
but suspect it has something to do with the sun staying up very late as well.
He has trouble settling, and feels lonely once his trusty bedtime buddy has fallen asleep.

He talks to himself. It breaks my heart.

Given that Asher is exactly like me,
and I can always find solace in a little out-of-this-world ice cream,
I thought that a late-night trip to Jeni's might help.


I was right.


(At least until we got home again, and he realized he would still have to go to sleep. Oh, well - nothing's perfect.)

A Prayer for My Children - Rosh Chodesh Sivan

I was reminded by my sweet friend Gevura that, on Rosh Chodesh Sivan, it is traditional for parents to offer a heartfelt prayer for their children.

You see, it is during the month of Sivan that the Jewish people was given the Torah. We celebrate this moment next week, remembering the day so long ago that G-d gave something so incredible and life-changing to us.

Like anything else that a parent gives to their child, the Torah, an instruction manual for our lives, was wrapped up carefully and lovingly and given with much fanfare to the Jewish people. But then, of course, it was out of the Giver's hands. The Jewish people has done many great things with it, but to this day, we're still fighting over it, arguing its meaning, and even using its words to hurt one another.  (As, I suppose, siblings will do.)

I think about this every time Sivan rolls around.  What will my children choose to do with the things I give them, and with the Torah G-d has given them? Will they use them to make the world a better place, or to create divisions between its occupants?  Thinking that the latter is a possibility tears my heart out.

Likely, our ancestors had the same worries and hopes. It became the tradition, therefore, to pray for a life full of Torah learning and deeds of lovingkindess for our children on this day.  You can find a traditional version of  the prayer here.  Here is our family's version, mostly the same as it was two years ago. (When Rami was bald - really!)

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 always know where they can find home

and that one of those places is always with one another.

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 adults 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.

{Chodesh Tov, and Chag Sameach}

Tell Me Something that Makes You Happy

You parents reading this can appreciate the challenge of getting a REAL smile out of the kids for a picture. 

(Just-one-picture for-the-love-of-all-things-holy can't-you-just-look-in-the-camera-for-one-stinking-picture?)

So, instead of asking Asher to "Smile!!!"

I usually say, "Tell me something that makes you happy."

Sometimes, he says, "The sharks at the Zoo."

Usually, he says, "Dinosaurs."

But yesterday, my darling boy said....

"You do, Ima."

(It would have been a great shot if his hand wasn't blocking his face.)

Oh my goodness, that boy is such a schmoozer I love that boy.

Rainy Day Plans

Just in case you were wondering

whether it's a good idea to visit the farm 

on a damp, trickly, dreary day,

let us help you out a little bit:

it probably is.

(Young's Jersey Dairy, Yellow Springs, OH)

One Year Old

My dearest Nesyah Hallel,

Of course I have loved you from the moment you were born, and even before then, as an Ima does.  The very miracle of your existence and birth is one thing that has reminded me to hold you especially close to my heart. But over the past year, you have grown into your own person, as children do.  I want to spend your first birthday letter saying "thank you" - not only for being my little miracle, but for working so hard over the past year to become so dearly, perfectly you.



As if the miracle of you wasn't enough,
you seem dedicated to making every moment a wonder.
You are the cheeriest baby I have ever met, and over the course of the last year, your unflappable happiness reminded me each and every day  that the world is a joyous place, if only we look in the right direction.

(discovering your toes)

(cloud-watching in the sukkah)

If any day felt particularly dark,
you would coo and sigh and pat the back of my neck with your fat fingers,
reminding me that if we were together, everything was right.
And, in that moment, it truly, truly was.  (Thank you.)

(snuggle session on the couch)

And if that didn't work, you would just do one of those fabulous tricks you can do with your tongue, raise your eyebrows in the air, and make me laugh out loud.


You love to be held close, and you love to kiss.  You were the first of my babies to volunteer kisses, approaching an unsuspecting cheek with wide-open mouth, a smear of drool, and an enthusiastic "aaaahhhh!" (Which is why I think I am the only person willing to kiss you on the lips as of yet.)


You are fat. Gloriously, deliciously fat.  Your thigh rolls are the best I have ever seen, and the day I notice that they are going away will be very sad.  That day is no doubt coming on more quickly than I will be happy about, since you began to walk just one week ago.  Five very wobbly, very independent steps were your birthday gift to me, one I will never forget.  Soon the extra exercise will burn off all that delicious chub, and your increasingly steady walk will make my arms a little less necessary.

(six months old, sixteen pounds)

Since I stayed home for the first year of your life, we have never been apart.  That means that you are one hundred percent Ima's girl.  If you are at your saddest, I am the only one who can make you feel better.  I absolutely love that, my dear one, I can't tell you how much.  We are "besties" through and through, and I couldn't ask for a better one.



I think every laugh that you've ever laughed has been a hearty one.  No giggles or titters here, just full-on delicious rolling belly laughter.  I hope that you throw yourself as fully and deeply into everything else you do your whole life long.


Your brothers adore you, and you are smart enough to already have learned from them the best ways to find adventure, effectively tackle, and mug someone with hugs and kisses.  That is one reason that you are as rough-and-tumble as a baby girl could be, and also as loving.



My darling girl, you are my sunshine.  During the first year of your life, you've already grown into someone who has managed to change mine more deeply than I could have imagined.  I don't think a day has gone by that your Abba and I haven't looked at one another and said how grateful we are that you are a part of our little family - you are making it what it is just by being so happy, so joyful, so sweet, and so perfectly, wonderfully, you.



Happy first birthday, my dear, sweet baby girl.  May it be the first of many more belly-laughing years to come.

Love,
Ima 

A True Friend

A true friend

is someone who thinks

that you are a good egg

even though he knows

that you are slightly cracked. (~Bernard Meltzer)

Shabbat Video Update: Mayn Yiddishe Maydele

Oh, my goodness.  You guys are not going to believe this one.  It is my favorite video yet, I think.  When I ran across this song, I knew it had to be matched with this video of Nesyah playing peek-a-boo before bedtime.

I am so totally in love with her.  Which is exactly what this song is about.

My favorite part is her big laughing belly.  Or maybe her two sweet teeth.  No, definitely the belly.

Shabbat Shalom (on our last Shabbat in Kansas!) from the Kopans bayit to you.

The Cure for Tantrums

Yesterday at lunch, Rami dropped a slice of cheese on the ground, and completely lost it. 

He was screaming, screaming, screaming -

for water, for his Heshy (a much-loved blue and green elephant lovey), for a hug.

So I hugged him, and brought him a Heshy, and hugged him some more, 

but his crying didn't stop.

So I let him rest a little bit in his room, and told him I would be back when he was done with his temper tantrum.

It tapered off after a few minutes.

I went upstairs to see my sweet boy cuddled in bed, surrounded by his Heshys, (we have five, just in case,) eyes fluttering closed.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?"

"No."

"Do you want to sing your Shema?"

"No."

"Do you want to snuggle?"

"...Yeah."

I squeezed into bed next to him , kissed his barely-still-baby cheeks, stroked his hair.

"I love you." I told him.

"Why?" He whispered.

So I told him all the reasons that I love him so much.
I told him about his crooked smile that can brighten any room,

I told him about the sweet way he mispronounces words,

I told him about his obsession with my favorite coconut candies, even though it means he steals them.

I told him about how he tucks his arms straight down under his belly when he snuggles with me.

I told him about his willingness to go along with his brother's games

and his fondness for making his sister laugh.

I told him about how much I love the way he says my name - "Ah-mah." - with a goofy smirk on his face.

I told him about his temper tantrums, and how they can usually be fixed with a hug.  Or a Heshy.  Or both.

I twisted one of his crazy curls around my finger

and told him about how, as much as he looks like his Abba, 

he is his own little soul, and that is what I love so much about him.

When I finished, he murmured, "Okay," turned his head, and fell asleep.

Oh my goodness, how I love that boy.

Even (especially) his temper tantrums.

How Firm Thy Friendship

Just over 9 months ago, we told you, with a heavy heart, that we were leaving Ohio.

Kansas City is a fine place to live - fine indeed!
It is true that  Kansas City has a great zoo, and a  sweet children' s farm.

There is a large and vibrant Jewish community, and a synagogue where the kids can go to Preschool and an old friend is our rabbi. 

Yes, they even have some Buckeyes. (Where aren't there Buckeyes?)  

David has gotten some great experience and learned a ton at his job.

I've made some incredible friends. (You know who you are, ladies, love you to pieces.)

The boys are O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D with their school.

The children's zoo? A gem.

I've found a grocery store where I can happily do my crazy 4 AM shopping.

We really love the park right down the street from our house.

(The children enjoying a Kansas park)

We loved a lot of things about Kansas.

But sometimes, no matter how just-fine a place might seem for your family,

the pull towards HOME is just too strong.

David got a call from a Columbus firm a couple weeks ago,

and we found out this week that they really wanted to hire him (can you blame them?)

So, even though things aren't the same as we left them,

Ohio is still Ohio, 

Home is still Home.

We took the offer.

We will miss some things about Kansas very much.

Sometimes I'm not quite sure how we will live without Miss Judy, Miss Susie, Miss Ellen, Miss Michele, and Miss Julie (the brave women who teach our boys every day.)

Gevura, I'm most likely still going to call you too much and stay on the phone waaaay too long.

But despite the dear friends we're going to miss, I'm so happy to say,

We're heading Home, friends.  

(The week before Purim.)

(And we couldn't be gladder.)

Shabbat Video Update: The Escape Artist

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!


"The Escape Artist": Episode 4 in the "Babies and Klezmer" 
Enjoy!

A Story about Friends, Ice Cream, and Home

This is a story about how being away from home is hard, and how, sometimes, 
the cold of winter and all the frustrations and sadnesses 
of an otherwise fortunate life
can add up to be just. too. much.
And homesickness can cover the whole mess like a blanket, and completely overwhelm you.


This is a story about good friends from back home,
who miraculously still think of you and love you, 
even though you've missed half the Skype dates you've ever made,
 and who somehow know that this week, especially, you could really, really use a little bit of home in your life.


So they call Jeni and they ask her to send you their favorite flavors,
all the way to Kansas, to surprise you.
And how you stare at the box and cry for a good five minutes.
(it's the good kind of cry.)



And for just a few minutes on a cold, dreary afternoon, everyone is happy,
because the sink is full of dry ice for the dinosaurs to play in



and there are four pints of Jeni's ice cream on the counter
(whose flavors were written on the container by someone all the way back in Ohio)



and your baby, who is an Ohio girl at heart,
is tasting Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream for the first time.



And you and your bestie are having a little ice cream date in your living room
in the middle of winter, in Kansas.
And she loves it so much (of course she does!)
that she is stealing your spoon, and licking the bowl, inside and outside. 




And how, even though it's not nearly the same as being home,
and sitting in the gorgeous natural light of Jeni's shop,
and enjoying the company of the friend who sent it (and so many more!)
at the end of the day,
Jeni's is still good for your neshama.


(Thanks, Elle.  You rule.)