Just a little over four years ago, Madelyn had her baby naming at Temple Adat Elohim and it was perfectly planned and timed for an age when we were comfortable with keeping her out and up late. We made the date months in advance, I bought a new dress, and we carefully orchestrated the day around what was to come later that evening.

For the second time around in this first of of Jewish lifecycle events, Arielle’s baby naming took place in December. A month before, we realized she was nearing her first birthday and the holidays were about to explode all over the calendar, and we scrambled to get a date that worked for our families. It was so last minute, and while I did get to buy a new dress, it was out of necessity because nothing in my closet was fitting and I was suffering lots of breastfeeding problems that were causing engorgement (enjoy the photos below. Holy boobs).

From the minute we arrived, Arielle and Madelyn acted like they owned the place.

Is it just me do the photos you deem most important usually come out most awkward? I so wish I could change a million things about this photo, but this was life in that very minute — a teething baby, a distracted Madelyn, an exploding and painful chest… Memories, folks.

To say that we threw Arielle’s baby naming together in a huff is an understatement, though our wonderful cantor and dear friend, David Shukiar, walked us through the brief ceremony and picking out her name. And repicking out her name. And picking it out again.

You see, selecting a name for Arielle was definitely not a fly-by-night part of the process, which, I suppose, is the actual most important part. We knew for certain we’d be honoring my mom’s dad, Jules, but weren’t sure how to go about doing so. Would we use his actual Hebrew name and call it a day? (We didn’t love it). Would we just use the first initial “J”? (Hard to do, since there’s no “J” in Hebrew). Would we go by the literal meaning and use the name that matches the definition? (Not as easy to match). Just when we’d found a combination with a meaning that worked, we didn’t necessarily like the way it sounded. Well, maybe that was me. Bryan was a lot less picky (shocker), but I was getting hung up on all kinds of little details because pronunciation is important. But with Hebrew, pronunciation can be hard.

And I know her Hebrew name is mostly only used for ceremonial purposes; we won’t be calling her down to dinner using her Hebrew name and she won’t be answering to it when she raises her hand in school. Still, though, I wanted it to sound pretty while also maintaining the integrity and memory of her great-grandfather.

At the baby naming in December, Bryan and I brought up our darling 9-month-old to the bimah and took turns sharing these words:

Generous and with the best smile. That’s how people described my Grandpa, Jules Kaplan, and Arielle Jane’s namesake. He was generous with his heart. His 3 daughters and their families always received such thoughtful gifts for birthdays, anniversaries, Hanukkahs, and other simchas. He was also generous with his wallet, often giving to charities that he felt were important. (When cleaning out his office desk, we had found piles and piles of return address labels and wall calendars and other chazerai from all the philanthropies he gave to). He was always most proud to donate to Jewish organizations and projects that supported Israel.

The other remarkable trait that everyone commented on — from his dashing young army days to the end with his family by his side — was his smile. He was a very handsome man, and he always smiled at everyone from strangers to his 3 daughters that made him proud. He always had smiles for Madelyn, who he knew for 20 months. I can even remember my own school friends growing up and hanging out with my family, remarking on my Grandpa’s smile. If you were lucky, you even got a wink. Happy and joy oozed from that smile.

Two of many things that made my Grandpa smile: Cheering on his family members as he did when he came to see me in action at a UofA football game; and going to Dodger games with my dad — he loved baseball.

While Arielle’s middle name, Jane, is in honor of her great grandfather Jules, we knew that we’d also want to incorporate these two traits of his in giving her her Hebrew name.

Semecha is the Hebrew word for Happy or Joyous. It just so happens that Arielle is one happy baby. She hands out smiles like candy and flashes her gums for anyone who catches her eye. She is full of joy, and in return, brings so much joy to us as well.

Netanya is the Hebrew word for Gift. The gifts that Alison’s Grandpa gave to everyone through his generosity is also parallel to the gift we have in Arielle. Every day with her feels like a present, and we know she’s special and unique like the best gifts are.

Arielle, we wish more than anything that you could have met my Grandpa. I know he would’ve been dazzled by your gorgeous smile with your scrunched up nose and sparkly eyes. I also know he would be proud of the person you will become, gifting people not only with your wonderful presence – the best present – but with your generosity and commitment to do your part to heal the world. We wanted you and waited for you, and in March you arrived, our perfect, little, joyous gift who completes our family. Your two great grandmothers, your four kvelling grandparents, your overjoyed mom and dad, and your partner in crime for life, Madelyn, could not be happier about the gift that you are to us and your community. We love you.

After the ceremony, we shared the rest of the Shabbat service and a Hanukkah candle lighting with our family and friends, surrounded by the community we’ve surrounded ourself with at temple. It was so nice to see so many of our friends from preschool, members from various committees we work with, and fellow chairs who are on Board of Directors with me.

So thankful for the friends I’ve made through Madelyn’s preschool.

Also so thankful for lifelong friends whose special events we share together.

And especially thankful for this guy who is a devoted friend and shares his sweet family with us too, while also being a leader without whom we’d be lost. His beautiful voice, his poetic words, and his fountain of knowledge keep us coming back for more. We love our cantor and friend, David!

My Grandma and Grandpa created a big, beautiful family, and I’m so glad that my mom and her sisters were there to hear us speak about their dad. It was nice to have most of us together as another feather of remembrance in my Grandpa’s cap.

Four generations represented in this photo. My grandpa would’ve liked it a lot. It’s just missing a few cousins and my uncle.

Madelyn has asked a lot of questions about her baby naming and is already so interested in and proud about all the holidays and symbols she’s learned by being part of her Jewish community. I’m excited to watch Arielle connect with her version of this community over the years, and she hit the jackpot having her big sister to show her the way.

Since buying a house in the past year, we’ve shared a solid round of firsts. And last week was no different: we hosted our first formal dinner party for Passover. It was important to us that our house accommodate the ability to entertain: a large, spacious kitchen, accessible living space for after-dinner socializing, and of course, a dining room that would be home to an 8 to 10 seat table. This house really does allow for all that, but the only thing missing was the dining room table!

Madelyn came shopping with us everywhere as we shopped for, as she calls it, “the diamond room table” (if only it was a room full of diamonds!) and it was no small feat. Our first task was to make sure the table was the right size, as the room is not very long, but we also have an existing China hutch which I was not willing to part with, so the table had to match. Trying to match espresso-colored woods requires many cups of espresso. SO HARD. But we found it and then bought chairs and the whole thing was stressful, but ended with full bellies, so I suppose it was more than worth the aggravation of furniture shopping.

So with the table delivered a week before Passover and the chairs arranged the night before our Seder, we were ready to have our parents, Madelyn’s aunt and uncle, and her great grandmothers over for dinner! We didn’t host a Seder last year in our condo because we were in the middle of organizing and packing, so we joked: “Next year in Jerusalem our new house!” At the time, we didn’t even know where our new house would be and here we are, 8 months into living in it, and one Passover down. So, because we hadn’t hosted a Seder in about two years, I’d forgotten how much work it is! But it was worth it. Thankfully, Bryan and I make a good team and we have a pretty solid routine down, which almost always includes his many trips to the grocery store for forgotten items. He’s so accommodating that way.

Ready for our guests to arrive!

Everything’s ready. Just waiting for the empty bellies to fill up.

Madelyn could even get in on the action too. The last Passover Seder she attended, she was kind of worthless in the kitchen and couldn’t even eat solids yet. The Passover before that, she enjoyed whatever goods she got in the womb. So this was really her first participating Passover experience, and it didn’t hurt that in preschool, she’d learned all the songs and symbols and was totally into it. Be still, my Jewish mother heart.

Madelyn was my Charoset sous chef, but she didn’t like the noise of the food processor as it went to work on the apples and walnuts.

So instead, Madelyn helped pour [lots of] cinnamon and stirred the combo. She did a great job and loved helping!

It was so nice to cook for family and spend the evening together. The Seder was truly all for Madelyn who sang her songs very proudly for a very captive and adoring audience. We read from a 30-minute Hagaddah, but directed much of the spiel toward Madelyn and she really soaked it in. I think she’s a little scholar like her father, which delights him since Passover is his favorite holiday.

Rabbi Madelyn leads the Seder.

After Madelyn, my other baby.

All 3 of us seem to be enjoying the soup! Proud Jewish mother moment!

After dinner, Madelyn went on a hunt for the afikomen, the hidden matzah. It was her first time playing this game, and it was fun to see how excited she was from her family cheering her on. With no competition, she successfully found it, received a Minnie Mouse-tastic prize, and spent the rest of the evening singing and dancing to her Grandpa’s guitar as we gathered for music time. It’s not a true holiday celebration without a song session led by my rockstar, musical prodigy father-in-law.

We had a great time and even though I’m not a deeply religious person, I do love the holidays and sharing them with our family. What’s even more amazing is celebrating them through Madelyn’s eyes. I think that’s really what it’s all about!

Is the matzah hiding by Bubbie and Gigi??

Is the hidden matzah in the drawer??

IT IS!

One proud matzah finder.

You know you’re a happy person when you have a dance off with your matzah and your Minnie.

And this is the start of a series called: Making Old Ladies Melt Into Puddles

Madelyn force feeds matzah to her 92-year-old great grandmother.

The Money Shot. Cue the “Awwww”s.

Madelyn poses with her Uncle Michael. They love to be silly together.

All the ladies of the group snuggled under the Hello Kitty blanket, per Madelyn’s orders.

The dessert spread of fruit and macaroons. Madelyn was a happy eater!

End-of-the-night attempt to get a family shot, Madelyn’s crazy hair and all.

Some of my earliest memories of childhood are from my days on the playground at preschool with my then best friend, Jordan. I can still see Jordan and myself trudging through the sandbox and going down the slide, followed by an uncomfortable jaunt on the awkward metal tricycles that we rode in circles on what I remember as a blacktop. I have vague memories of other aspects of preschool too – I think at some point we actually had naptime on cots and I’m pretty sure we sang songs outside under a big tree with a woman playing the guitar. (I distinctly remember the Jewish classics “Bim Bom” and “My Bagel Lies Over The Ocean”.)

It is this exact same preschool that Madelyn will be starting at next week (with a brand new state of the art jungle gym on that neat rubbery surface and minus a few safety-questionable tricycles). Understandably, it has me reflecting on my early days there because even though this is the start to Madelyn’s 20+ year career in the education system, it is also the beginning of something else that I hope will become as important to her as it has for Alison and me – her Jewish identity. Sure, there’s an argument to be made that her baby naming was really the start of that, and certainly in some ways it was, but while I’m fairly confident she won’t remember that occassion too well (she was less than a year old), I’m hoping she’ll remember her preschool days as fondly as I do.

Of course, despite learning the Hamotzi and how to say “Shabbat Shalom,” my time at Temple preschool was a short-lived Jewish experience that ended when it was time for Kindergarten. My parents, though raised Jewish, weren’t overly religious, and while we celebrated Chanukah and Passover, we also celebrated Christmas and Easter (for a few years). So even though my Jewish identity started with the temple preschool, it wasn’t until I was in third grade when I explicitly asked my parents if I could go to Hebrew school and have a Bar Mitzvah. I had attended a conservative temple’s Friday night services with a friend, and I don’t know if it was the sprinkled sugar cookies during the Oneg or what, but there was just something about it that intrigued me and had me wanting more. When I went to my parents about this, their reaction was positive, despite my dad’s self-described bad experience with his own Bar Mitzvah. I think they realized much better than me at the time that the conservative temple was probably not the place for us, so they did some legwork for me, researching two reform congregations in the area – one of them where I had attended preschool years earlier.

We ended up, however, joining the other one and leaving my preschool temple behind. My parents really connected with the Director of this congregation, and in all honesty, I think part of the decision was also driven by cost, given that this alternative was less expensive (something I understand all too well in my current reality). I started in the middle of third grade, needing private tutoring in Hebrew until I caught up with the rest of the class. It was only one day a week, but it wasn’t long before I was caught up and then some. By fifth grade, kids and teachers alike started poking fun at me, calling me Rabbi Friedman because I took to things so well and actually really liked and embraced Hebrew school. Before long, my whole family got very involved – my sister started classes, my mom became a 2nd grade teacher there, and my dad played guitar at services. I had my Bar Mitzvah, went on to Confirmation class, and then continued as a teacher’s assistant for that same teacher who I started with in 3rd grade. Even when I went off to college, I would come home for High Holy Days services and watch my dad blow the Shofar. When I met Alison, I found out she had gone there too and my dad had even played guitar at her Bat Mitzvah. We had the same rabbi for our Mitzvahs and he officiated at our wedding too. This congregation and everything I had built with it completely defined my Jewish identity.

And then it went away. Suddenly. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I think the Director/Owner had just decided that she was burned out after all those years of running the show, and the whole thing just disbanded. It was very quietly devastating for me. I felt lost for a short time. It was like everything we had built together had meant nothing. I selfishly felt abandoned.

When Alison got pregnant, we knew we wanted to join a congregation so we would have a Jewish home for our family. We were not planning to force feed the Torah down our kids’ throats, but we did want to build a foundation of Judaism that we grew up with and allow them to grow and choose how they wanted to celebrate – to define their own Jewish identity. We checked out the Friday night services and did some research on a reform temple in the area – the one I went to preschool at. We loved the musical atmosphere of the services and the warm feeling of community that the temple congregation, staff, and clergy brought. So we decided to join, and Alison and Madelyn began attending Mommy-and-Me classes and Tot Shabbats there. Madelyn got her Hebrew name, and we attended services whenever we could. I felt my Jewish identity shifting and changing from what it was in the past to something new and different, and I liked it. Whereas before I looked at Judaism with much more youthful eyes, now I viewed it from the eyes of a father and a husband – a family man. It’s been three years and Alison and I are really starting to get involved, joining some committees and starting to carve out our own place in the temple.

All of this is to say that Madelyn’s latest milestone has made me realize that I’ve been on an endless journey of discovery of my own Jewish identity since I started preschool, just as she’s about to do. In fact, she’s a part of helping me define it even still, and she’s just beginning her journey as I did (and as her mom did too with help from Jewish summer camp in her case). I’m very excited to watch Madelyn make her own discoveries about religion and her heritage, even if it’s only “Bim Bom” and the Hamotzi for now. I know she’s starting off right because when I ask what she did at the temple, she always right away mentions one of her favorite things – “chaaaallaaaah”. Plus, she’s already made a name for herself at services by dancing to some of the more upbeat prayers. Next week, she will continue the Friedman preschool legacy that started thirty years ago, and my Jewish identity couldn’t be prouder.