A Covenant for My Son

As he has been brought into the covenant, so may he enter into Torah, huppah, and ma’asim tovim.

I’ve been remiss in my blogging lately as I spent some extra time bonding with Little Man, taking him on his first important outings (i.e. the bookstore, the New England Aquarium, the jewelry store…) and throwing him a bris party.

What’s a bris? The covenant, or bris, is the oldest continuous Jewish rite.  The brit milah is scheduled eight days after birth (as that is when Abraham circumcised Isaac). And, yes, I said circumcised. So the eighth day of life was not so much fun for Little Man-- though, believe me, it was much harder on Mommy. We had a mohel perform the brit milah with only immediate family present at our home so that all of us could really enjoy welcoming Carston into our wonderful community of friends and family a few weeks later.

At his bris party, which essentially was a baby-naming celebration since the actual circumcision had been completed, we highlighted our hopes for Carston Cook Levey Friedman.  His Hebrew name is Shlomo (or Solomon) Chaim. "Shlomo/Solomon" honors John's Uncle Stuart, who passed away in childhood; the name also means peace, and is more commonly associated with wisdom, both things we wish for him and for the world. "Chaim," which means life, connects him to all his Jewish ancestors and to an artistic tradition (think "Fiddler on the Roof" and Chaim Potok).

I was particularly moved when our rabbi discussed the meaning of leaving a chair out for Elijah, who is said to visit every bris in the hopes that this child could be the Messiah. More practically though Elijah's chair symbolizes everyone's great hopes for every child-- who knows, the cure for cancer could lie within our Little Man! My father carried Carston into the room and sat in Elijah's chair.  You can see him in this picture, which also shows me lighting candles.

I like to say that Carston is our child of light since, like most children, he is obsessed with any kind of light (whether electric or sunlight) and naturally turns toward it. As I lit the candles (which John and I bought nearly two years ago during a trip to Israel, having NO idea we would ever use them for this purpose) John's father read the below blessing for a newborn child:

There is a new light in our hearts and in our home.

These candles celebrate the birth of our child.

Out of the creative darkness of the womb he has come.

These candles celebrate his emergence into light.

Blessed is the woman who bears a child, for she knows how love covers pain.

Blessed is the man who fathers a child, for he makes a bridge between earth and heaven.

Child of light, you know not yet the love and joy overflowing from our hearts. 

Believe me, as these pictures capture, love and joy overflow from our hearts whenever we look at him.

As part of the covenant we committed our son to a life of learning, love, and good deeds. I love that these are three of the main pillars of my own life already.

The first part of this statement--learning/Torah-- really resonates with us, as we are book people. Nearly every room in our home is filled with books and our lives are dedicated to knowledge and learning.  Of course, we hope the same for Carston.  To honor this I made up a wee bookmark (for a wee Little Man) as our party favor.

I also ordered a book cake, with a rabbit on it of course (the Friedmans are OBSESSED with rabbits because John had pet rabbits as a child).

This is my new favorite picture, which captures two of my greatest loves-- my son and books.

In addition to learning we hope our son finds love, with whomever he desires, and that that love is recognized by all. Finally, we hope that he serves others and lives a righteous life, committed to justice.  John and I read the following Parents' Prayer to capture these three elements.

We dedicate our child to Torah,

To a never-ending fascination with study and learning

With a book, he will never be alone.

We dedicate our child to huppah,

To never-ending growth as a human being capable of giving and receiving love.

With a loving mate, he will never be alone.

We dedicate our child to maasim tovim,

To a never-ending concern for family and community, justice and charity.

If he cares for others, he will never be alone.

We pray for wisdom to help our child achieve these things.

To fulfill the needs of his mind and body,

To be strong when he needs us to be strong,

To be gentle when he needs us to be gentle,

But always there when he needs us.

The birth of a child is a miracle of renewal.

We stand together this day, contemplating a miracle.

We stood surrounded by the great love of so many friends and family from so many parts of our lives. It was a fascinating group full of neat connections and we all shared in this simcha together.

The Hebrew word for joy is simcha, which is also the word for party. Little Man clearly brings us much joy and gives us a reason to party. As you can see, he is looking forward to even more parties in his future...

* All photographs courtesy of Mark Manne Photography

Everything is Altering

This post was happily featured on Babble on April 18, 2012 as the post I am most proud of us a mom! One week ago I gave birth to our precious son, Carston Cook Levey Friedman. We have been affectionately referring to him as Little Man.

During labor I spent a good amount of time on Facebook and Twitter. It was amazing to feel like so many friends and family were part of the process.

A Twitter friend, Sarah Buttenwieser, sent me a message after he'd arrived, part of which said: "#everythingaltering."

That phrase, "everything altering," kept running like a loop through my head over the next 24 hours. I kept saying to myself, "Everything is altering. Everything is altering." Of course, the link to "altar" and worshiping him and all the promise he holds (as the Midrash says, "With each child the world begins anew") was not lost on me either.

I also kept thinking about the choice of tense. Everything alterED the moment he entered the world. As any mother knows, the moment when that little human life is both forced out of you, by you, and also slips out of you, on his own, is indescribable.  Everything changed in that moment.

And, yet, my husband, John, and I still remained ourselves. Life shattered for a brief moment and was then put back together with so much more love than we knew before. We were fundamentally changed and fundamentally the same all at once.  Case in point: On the day we left the hospital an article about John's research (which I've written a bit about before) appeared on the front page of The New York Times (and check out Nicholas Kristof's column tomorrow, which also discusses this work). He spent the next several hours on the phone with reporters and even doing a live interview from home.  I snuck in half an hour of work on an article I have coming out next Sunday in The Boston Globe Magazine on afterschool math enrichment centers.

So much the same, yet completely different.

Because it is not that everything alterED, but that it is alterING.  Every sigh, sound, thought, movement has a new meaning. And this is a continual process of negotiating new challenges together and renegotiating identities and expectations.

As I take in lots of wonderful advice (one wonderful example written by Rebecca Sullivan, "Pilfer Disposable Hospital Underwear?") and continue to share our evolving journey with loved ones, I look forward to finding out where this altering will take us as individuals, as a family, and as professionals.

This Saturday will capture many of those changes. We'll spend the morning following the US Marathon Trials, since John is a serious runner and running fan.

Then we'll watch the Patriots game (Go, Tom Brady!).

Finally, we'll switch to the Miss America Pageant. This will be the first time in many years that I won't be watching with friends while hosting a pageant party. Carston has been studying up on his favorites though. Once the preliminary competitions end tomorrow night, I plan to post my thoughts and predictions on this year's interesting group of contestants.

In the meantime, we'll be altering away.

ETA: I love that motherhood means entering new conversations and dialogue. Continued thoughts from Standing in the Shadows blog!

UPDATED! What happens when you are first-time parents who study competition and education?

ETA: On January 4th, 2012 we welcomed our son, Carston, into the world. Two days later, his daddy's research on value-added teachers appeared on the front page of The New York Times. Coincidence?! Everyone is doing well and no one has been fired yet! I was correct (per original post below) that this work would get a lot of attention. What do you think? My husband, John Friedman, and I are expecting our first child in about three weeks.  Both of us have spent parts of our careers studying education, childhood, and competition in various forms.  I can't decide if this is going to be good for our offspring, or a total disaster...

John, and several colleagues (including Raj Chetty, Nathaniel Hilger, Emmanuel Saez, Diane Whitmore Schanzenbach, and Danny Yagan), recently published the lead paper in The Quarterly Journal of Economics: "How Does Your Kindergarten Classroom Affect Your Earnings? Evidence from Project Star." (If you would like to read a full version of the manuscript, click here.)  In the paper they find evidence that your kindergarten classroom has significant, longitudinal effects on your life, using data from students who were part of Project STAR, a Tennessee program in the early 80s that randomized children into kindergarten classrooms.  These effects include higher earnings, college attendance, home ownership, and retirement savings.  I guess Robert Fulghum was right that all you really need to know you learned in kindergarten. Can you imagine the kinds of questions we are going to ask before enrolling our child in a kindergarten?!

Currently John is working on another paper (again, with Raj Chetty, and also with Jonah Rockoff), that will surely get a lot of attention as it focuses on the long-term impacts of teachers-- not just kindergarten teachers.  To oversimplify things, teachers who improve students' standardized test scores also improve adult earnings.  A one standard deviation increase in test score raises earnings by about 10% of your yearly salary per year. Really interesting stuff, but I can't imagine the kinds of questions John is going to ask at school open houses and parent-teacher conferences!

As for me, if you read this blog you know that I study kids and competition and various afterschool activities.  So can you imagine the kinds of questions I am going to ask sports coaches, music teachers, etc.?  Since I also write about how these issues often intersect with schooling and college admissions I know how important early education can be.  Recently I checked out websites of some schools around our house to see about tuition and admissions requirements for pre-K, if we go the private school route. Now, if I lived in some cities (oh, like one Big City a couple hundred miles south of Boston), I would be quite behind if I hadn't already been reading up on the options and gotten myself on mailing lists.  Despite being one of the great intellectual centers of the world, Boston isn't quite as intense as this other Big City.  Nonetheless, I started filling out an online form to request more information on a particular school, figuring I have some downtime to read up on places.  When I got to the section on child's info (like name, grade interested in, birth date, etc.), I suddenly realized that putting my due date in as an upcoming birthday would likely not be looked upon kindly by the Brahmin elite!  I wouldn't want to flag myself as a Tiger Mom before I'm even officially a mom... especially because I'm not quite sure I will be a Tiger Mom, preferring more of a "buffet" approach to early childhood parenting.

What do you think: son lucky to have parents who study these issues, or destined for a lifetime of therapy? Personally, I hope for something in between, so if you have any suggestions, feel free to pass them on!