When words are futile

He's not pointing. Or saying words.

Like other kids.

And you say it doesn't affect you. That all children learn and grow at their own pace. But somewhere deep inside: you wonder: why not? And just like that, with those two words, the small pebbles of worry seep into your skin like fine grains of sand rubbing your insides raw.

Then, today. When you get a phone call- the kind of call that makes you sink to the floor. That makes you forget where you are, or what you are, all labels teacher, lawyer, writer, stripped away until you stare at the bare bones of what a person is, a mother, a wife, a child. You are always your parent's child.

And you hear the soft padded footsteps of chubby feet and look up to see your son walking towards you. He pauses a brief moment. Examines your tear-soaked face with a concern he cannot articulate but is expressed on his small chubby face. And you feel him wrap his baby arms around you before pulling back to wipe away each tear as it trails down your face. 

And in that moment you forget the pointing. And the words not yet spoken, because all you see is love; pure unadulterated love that words can never properly express. And you want nothing more than for this little being with the toothless smile to never ever receive a phone call that speaks of anything but sunshine, daffodils and daisies while knowing that's just not possible.

A parent's love is unlike any other love, my father said to me years ago. As I watched my son's sleeping figure tonight, I thought of my own parents decades ago watching over me. Love takes many different forms but a parent's love occupies an island all its own.

If your eyes read across these words, if you are the praying sort, please keep my family in your prayers. All is well. Please God, let it remain so.

Three Beautiful Things Thursday

One. Waleed is on the mend and the weather was just right so I stuck him in the Ergo and headed out with my new bluetooth clipped on [which is great! I no longer hang up on people with my cheek! And! I feel very important and chic like I'm discussing Very Important Matters even though its usually a 'what do you want to eat for dinner? I don't know what do you want to eat for dinner. I don't know what do you. . . and so on and so forth]. One great thing about my neighborhood is the children, all races and ethnicity, get along spectacularly. Where most neighborhood streets are empty of children, indoors watching television or otherwise sedentarily engaged, here they're out interacting with one another. Every evening I look out the window and feel like I'm looking in on a UN headquarters meeting [if it involved hopscotch, jump roping, and playing sports- which lets be honest, we can't be sure doesn't take place at actual UN headquarters]. White, Black, Latino, Korean, Pakistani, Indian, all playing together. Today on my walk I saw two kids dribbling a basketball walking a few paces ahead of me. I've lived in this neighborhood seven years and I've watched them grow from four-year-olds grinning with more gaps than teeth to now, on the cusp of adolescence, rivaling me in height. I smiled today as I saw them whispering to one another, looking up at the sky and grinning as they pointed at birds flying overhead in perfect formation on this lazy summer evening. I felt about as wholesome as one can. Then one of the boys pointed to the sky once more and the other pulled out a black gun and began shooting in earnest. A BB gun. At birds. Well, it was a great feel-good moment until then.

Two. My games with Waleed are slowly evolving from simply peek-a-boo to now hide the pen, spoon or any other object at hand. I love placing it under a leg or under a sheet of paper and watching him investigate and squeal upon discovering it once more. So ofcourse he decided to amp up the fun and hide my keys and credit-cards. It's a shame that having the memory of a guppy fish and the verbal abilities of one too, he never got around to letting me know where he put them and I haven't been able to find them since. I called Am Ex to get a new card, they're always good about it and I love that they do so with nary a lecture on being more responsible [which I do think they'd be entitled to at this point as I've misplaced the card many a time and long before I could blame it on a baby]. But, their eagerness does make me wonder.

Me: My son hid my credit card and I can't find it. Can I get a new one?
AmEx: Sure. We can overnight it!
Me: Thanks, you guys did that once for me in Brazil but you don't have to do that now I'm not going out anytime soon.
AmEx: No really! we can overnight it!
Me: It's okay. Thank you though.
AmEx: But it would be our pleasure to do it.
Me: Yeah, I know but. .
AmEx: Don't you want your card?
Me: Um, yeah
AmEx: So there's no harm right?
Me:. . . right. . .
AmEx: It'll be there tomorrow! Free of charge!

When a credit card company is beside themselves to send you the credit card ASAP it makes you question your spending habits- and while I'm fairly certain I don't use my cards that much I'll be double checking going forward for sure. Glad for having a credit card once more and a bit more thoughtfulness as I try figuring out why I'm AmEx's BFF.

Three. Years ago I had a close friend I cared about very much. I can tell you my reasons but they really don't matter anymore, the truth is, I made a mistake and I broke a promise to her. I was 20 years old- but I knew better. And while I learned an important lesson from it, it cost me a good friendship- and lessons as valuable as they are- are never worth the cost of a good friendship. Years later through facebook and this blog we reconnected and I was thankful the hurt of years past had faded but the fondness of the friendship we shared remained. Last week I got a book in the mail for my seven year blogoversary. It was from her. A Fine Balance. A book she [and many of you] have highly recommended but I've shied away from because its a chunky novel and I know the library renewals would run out before I managed to finish it. Now I have no more excuses [except that K picked up the book to browse through but then never really put it back down because he can't stop reading it. It's fine. I can wait.] I am so thankful for how much I've grown in the span of time since my mistake but oh so thankful that some friendships get a second chance.

So in sum: neighborhood children who see no color, credit-cards expressed overnight, a new book to dive into and a friendship reclaimed- do Thursdays get better than this? Hope you have a great Thursday too.

Six to Twelve Months Baby Products: The Yay and Nay

Last time I wrote about my favorite and least favorite baby products many of you were kind enough to let me know you appreciated those posts. I heart feedback so thought I'd write one more review on products that I liked [and didn't] in the hopes that its helpful. I'm not being paid for any of this, just sharing my thoughts in the hopes its helpful for you [though should a company perchance wish to send me a crate full of organic puffs- I would not say no]. If you find this helpful I'll do my best to do a 12-18 month post!

Nay: Johnsons and Johnsons Baby Products. I never intended to really care all that much how I bathed or lotioned my kid. I mean, I buy generic soap and my skin is fine? Plus I got tons of gifts of bath products and they all were of the generic variety and I figured good enough for me good enough for my kid.  I was wrong. All baby skin is surely different. Your kid may have the sturdy stuff impervious to any product or perfume, but my little guy's skin reacted very badly. My doctor suggested we switch to fragrance free and even that didn't work- we ultimately switched to natural lines with minimal chemicals and it was only then that we began to see a difference, though the true difference didn't transform his skin until. . .

Yay:  Babyganics Eczema Cream. I'm not sure if Waleed had eczema or not but the skin thing was becoming very problematic and an increasing issue the more he crawled. I tried it all: lotions, olive oil, almond oil, vaseline, hydrocortisol nothing worked until I bought this- it literally transformed his skin from rough and patchy in spots to sweet baby smooth in a matter of hours and we have never had skin issues again. I'm fairly certain this stuff is made of magic.

Nay: Plastic bowls. They line the shelves of grocery stores and baby stores, each with images of a baby plucking an animal cracker with a large grin while the mother gazes on adoringly so I dutifully purchased a pack, filled it with the requisite cheerios and at our next restaurant put it before him and watched as he promptly took the bowl and began practicing for his future ultimate frisbee championship ring [if rings are infact bestowed on frisbee champs, which they should]. Needless to say, mortifying. And no amount of 'don't do that please' works- that bowl is meant to be flung. Maybe when he's older the plastic bowl will work, and maybe your child will be a bit more sensible with their bowls, but for us, it was a massive FAIL.

Yay: Booster Seat. I never got a high-chair [though we went back-and-forth debating it as if the fate of the world rested on this matter alone] and instead bought a booster seat. He's used it since he was six months old and I love it. It saves space, easy to take off when a guest needs an extra chair, and we take it with us to restaurants so he can eat off the tray instead of a bowl. We just purchased this 'Tiny Diner' suction tray you can also use on the go and folds neatly into a purse. Love it also! The booster seat gets an edge over the 'Tiny Diner' for me since with the seat has a tray which helps contain him more. If you have a more sensible child who would never dream of trying to nose dive from a wooden high-chair then the 'Tiny Diner' could be all you need.

Nay: Earth's Best Teething Biscuits. I love Earth's Best for their jarred baby food. Waleed eats way less pureed babyfood now that he's one-year-old but when I didn't have time to make my own food I always went with Earth's Best. When I saw their teething biscuits- I naturally swooped them up and well, if you want your kid covered in a beige colored goop from hand to arm to hair to face to clothes then this is your biscuit. It was hideous; dunk-and scrub- in-the-tub-for-twenty-minutes hideous. If you have a child that will lift and nibble politely on one end of the biscuit, not putting it down, lifting from the other end, and then the other, then maybe this biscuit will work for you.

Yay: Organic Puffs. I try to do my best to minimize Waleed's consumption of processed foods and while these Organic Puffs are certainly processed since I'm not yet aware of "Baby Puff" trees or bushes, the ingredient list is much shorter with words much easier to pronounce than any of its competitors. They melt in your mouth, and if his jumps, shrieks and claps at the site of the yellow bottle are any indication, they taste pretty good too.

Nay. SUV stroller. Or, Travel Systems, as they are traditionally called. Now I know that some of you wear by these and that's fine for me the sheer poundage made my back ache looking at them as they average out at about 23-28 pounds of pure stroller weight! We used a snap-n-go with his infant car seat and we are thankful we spared our backs the hassle.

Yay. Umbrella Stroller. Because we babywear him a lot, we hadn't had the need to upgrade strollers until now. As opposed to 23 pound strollers, ours is 11 pounds, folds up and can fit into a travel bag you can carry on your shoulder [not sure why anyone would want to carry it on their stroller but the lady on the cover box looks thrilled about doing so]. I don't know if the one we got is the best stroller, but it was affordable and had good reviews.

Agree? Disagree? What are your favorite baby products six-to-twelve months? [And if you have any advice on awesome baby products for toddlerhood and would like to save my pocketbook I will be forever grateful!]

Vaccines, dehydration and "just a coincidence"

Friday was shot day at the pediatrician's office [the same appointment wherein we learned we are failing spectacularly as parents due to the fact that our little one doesn't point]. I hate shot day for all the reasons every mother hates shot day but this past Friday my stomach hurt a little extra when I learned he would have not one, not two but FOUR stabs to the leg. He normally gets a high fever and some other random assortment of scary side-effects after his shots [the vast majority of which I am assured by medical professionals are completely unrelated to the shots- just a coincidence. each. and. every. time.] so with four shots I braced myself for a difficult weekend ahead.

Except he seemed fine. The next day we began the morning with a lovely play-date with Murgdan and Gabriel [And while our kids did play, they mostly played around each other with bursts of accidental encounters including a brief but vigorous argument for the remote control- Gabriel won], and ended it with a third viewing of Inception. A good day. Huh. I thought. No fever. Maybe his bad reaction to vaccines is over.

I was wrong.

That night, I checked in on a sweaty, feverish baby battling, to put it delicately, a horrendous stomach bug. The next day he refused to eat or drink, instead resting in our arms whimpering. The nurse hotline advised me on warning signs and what to do. When I voiced concerns that it was vaccine-related she dismissed it immediately. No way. Just a coincidence.

The next day, when he began stumbling, I rushed him to the doctor. Within the course of 48 hours he went from 20.8 pounds to 19.5 on the brink of hospitals and IVs. Again, I was informed its not the vaccines. No way. Just a coincidence.

This coincidence stance frustrates me. I understand him getting sick one time unrelated to the vaccines, but each and every time? A stomach bug? Nausea? Rash? Don't get me wrong- I think vaccines are important. I'm all for them. Do I love that you have to pierce skin to administer them? No. But until they develop the technology to administer said vaccines through baked goods, this is the way its done. I don't like it, but I get it. What I don't understand: Why do we have to administer so many damn vaccines at once? Why can't we spread them out over the course of weeks or months? I am thankful that as scary as his sickness-post-vaccines tend to be, he does get better, but why is there this emphatic dismissal of my concerns when I tell them that he gets sick each and every time from vaccines- and an insistence that its unrelated purely coincidental? Side-effects can be funny things. You wouldn't think one could be allergic to breastfeeding? But you can. Why is it outside the realm of possibilities that vaccines running through a tiny body might produce a side-effect in a particular child?

Slowly the clouds are parting. Today he ate a tablespoon of yogurt and a small bowl of rice; its better than yesterday and I hope tomorrow will be better than today. I'm thankful he avoided the hospital thanks to my doctor's idea to feed him gatorade via syringe bit-by-bit for two hours until he finally had a wet diaper. Really, I'm grateful. But the thought of his fifteen month wellness visit shot appointment is making me feel sick. When he was born, I was sick and while they told me there were fairly certain he was okay, they did a ridiculous amount of tests involving needles to protect their liability make sure. A kind nurse suggested quietly that I refuse the Hep A vaccine at the hospital since Waleed had clearly been through enough in his short life and I could get it done later. No one at the hospital so much as blinked when I refused it, but my doctor's office? They have a notice on their website that if you don't want to go with the traditional vaccine schedule you're welcome to go elsewhere. In fact, every doctor's office within a fifteen minute drive of me does not tolerate alternate vaccine schedules. Like I said, the one time I tentatively brought it up, you'd think I told them I hunt koala bears for a living.

Maybe his sickness post-vaccines is related. Maybe it's not. Today, one grandmother theorized this could be due to the blueberries I fed him, while another thought it might be because we didn't feed him enough rice. Everyone wants a reason- a why. Maybe that's me- a mother wanting to lay blame at someone's door, to find a reason- in this case, vaccines.

How did you handle, are handling, or plan to handle vaccines? Any insight on this topic appreciated.

Things I will miss when you're grown

1. The way your chubby toes flatten against the tiles when I set you down.
2. The feel of your soft curls as you rest your head in the hollow of my shoulder.
3. Your smiles in general.
4. Your toothless grins in particular. 
5. The way you delight in peek-a-boo with your father, eyes wide, arms and legs kicking in unison- literally happy from head to toe.
6. How you lift your food pinched between your thumb and finger, like a baby monkey.
7. The way you breathlessly whisper bye-bye with a solemn flap of your hand.
8. And stare at us when you're annoyed, eyebrows raised, a twelve month old teenager.
9. The pout of your lips as they pucker up when you, well, pout.
10. Those soft baby cheeks, that silky hair, that button nose, these tiny fingers, and toes.

The way you howl in the dead of night, misery unparalleled- until I picked you up and in an instant there is silence- your head against my shoulder, your body limp with relief because all is once against right with the world. This ability to wholly transform your world from darkness to lightness and joy with a simple embrace? That? That is what I will miss most.

The doctor's visit and the fact that he won't point.

Save the one time the doctor mistook my son for a perfectly cute little girl, doctor's visits are [thankfully] uneventful and I'm never anything but utterly grateful for the quick casual check marks by the nurse as she asks about bowel movements, sleep schedules, feedings, and sends us on our way without pause.

Today was the first pause.

Doctor: We need to discuss the pointing matter.
Me: What pointing matter?
Doctor: You told the nurse he doesn't point to what he needs.
Me: Well, no. . .
Doctor: He should be pointing. That's how language is developed. How does he let you know he's hungry? He doesn't point to the high chair?
Me: No, he gets fussy, I look at the clock and see its been a while since the last meal and take him to the high chair, he gets happy and I feed him.
Doctor: You're anticipating his every need so he has no need to point and request.
Me: Hm. I have seen other kids his age that point at different things. . .
Doctor: Yep, its because their parents are modeling it for them.

And so proceeded a lesson in teaching him how to point and a stern reprimand to monitor carefully and bring him in if it doesn't improve. To be clear, she's a great doctor. We don't agree on everything [she's more parent-centered when it comes to sleep schedules and weaning while I strive to be more kid-centered] but I respect her opinion. And normally whenever I go in, freaked out about a tooth that hasn't emerged, or a finger that looks swollen, she waves it away, tells me I'm doing great and sends me on my way. So coming from her, this concern about this milestone he is not reaching and the fact that it's my fault? As much as she kindly couched it with we just are very tuned into his needs, and he's clearly a happy baby, well it made us feel like the worst. parents. ever.

He gets all his needs met, without being forced to point, she said. Put away all his toys, containers, boxes, anything he might amuse himself with and then he'll have no choice but to point for what he wants. Except he doesn't work that way. If he has nothing to play with, he'll look out the window and squeal at joggers passing by, a bird, or a butterfly. He'll dance. He'll tap against the fridge. This kid? He really doesn't get bored.

It's not like he doesn't communicate. A grunted bang on the table at dinner lets us know pay attention to me! Hands raised, pick me up. Sleepy- eyes rubbed. A stern no- a pout a whine and obedience. My point is- we get him. And- he seems to get us.

But he's not pointing and since I want to give my kid the moon and the stars if he wants them, the fact that he can't point to request said solar-system goodies because I failed to teach him. . . well, it just sucks.

So now K and I are in the process of pointing ourselves silly. All day. At home. At Zaxbys. At Target. Chicken! Shopping Cart! Eyes! Smile! Voice! Fingers! Water! [And all those years I looked with annoyance at the super-perky parents talking in high pitched voices? I live in a house. It is clearly made of glass]. I'd do anything for my son, so I can certainly point myself into an arthritic finger for him if need be- I just hope our efforts work.

Was pointing made to be the end-all be-all at this stage with your kid? What did you do to help your child point and communicate in general? She suggested reading more to him, but- and I know this will sound odd since I'm the biggest book-worm I know- save his bedtime story, he rarely enjoys sitting down and being read to. Any advice much appreciated.

Blogger and your comments

48+ hours ago blogger went under and with it took my my monthly update for Waleed [which luckily I saved in time] and ate all comments for that post and 15 comments from my "delurk-n-say hi- blogversary give-away" post. If you entered [or said hi] please double-check its still there! If you wanted to delurk/enter the past 48 hours but couldn't, it should work now. Debating switching to wordpress at the moment which is hard to imagine after seven years here, but maybe its time for a change. We'll see.

Happy Twelve Month Birthday

Dear Waleed,

On Saturday you turned one year old. When you were born this day felt as remote as people building bungalows on Mars but people must be inspecting granite counter tops and negotiating closing costs on the red planet because its happened. You're one. And you've gone from this:

To this:





You love the outdoors. Your favorite activity is 'helping' us water the grass and by default, watering yourself. Speaking of grass, you no longer fear it. Instead, you express domination over said grass by pulling it out with gusto and flinging it over your head which makes us smile [and cringe because well, we sort of spent a lot of money to lay that grass you're yanking with abandon]. Speaking of dominance your grandmothers sought to dominate the curliness that is your hair. When pleas for a hair cut failed they applied enough gel to straight-spike a horse's mane. The result? 'business' in the front, 'party' in the back.

We celebrated your birthday with a picnic with your grandparents, Mamu Ali, and some of your closest friends. [And by your closest friends I mean people about as old as you who also had no clue where they were or why they were there]. Cutting the cake was fun, opening the gifts sweet, but my favorite part of the day was 7:02pm. Last year that time you were born and I was too weak to hold you. For ten hours I couldn't. Seems like a short span of time, but for you it was a lifetime. My heart literally ached to pull you close to me. I remember watching you swaddled asleep in the bassinet next to me and feeling overwhelmed; already I was failing as a parent. In that moment I feared the year to come. This May, amidst gift bags and wrapping paper, at 7:02pm I scooped you up. I held you. And I kissed you like I wanted to one year ago. Its hard now to remember why I felt so afraid- I had nothing to fear; I've lived a lifetime of joy in these past 365 days.



After smothering kissing you it was time for your favorite part of the day. Each month we've celebrated your birthday with a photo shoot with Mr. Bear and a candled cupcake to mark the passage of time. You could never actually eat the cupcake as it was meant to be decorative- little did I understand that babies don't remain immobile children for long as these sample of months show all too clearly:


Month one: Cupcake? What cupcake? [And yes, sorry kiddo, mama was having a bad fashion sense day- I blame it on sleep deprivation- and yes I blame that on pretty much everything!]

By month five curiosity grew

Month Eight: Curiosity became desire

Month 9: Desire denied = very angry baby



But this month? We did your monthly photo-shoot. We plopped you in your chair, dressed you up in your cupcake eating outfit sent by your sweet Khala, and finally, you ate that cupcake:

and I'm pretty sure it was everything you hoped it would be


Someone said to me, A first birthday celebration is for the parents since a kid has no clue what's going on. That's the equivalent of saying the sun is hot. Ofcourse it is. You might throw this back at me twelve years hence but you didn't ask to be born. I did. I wanted nothing- and I mean nothing- more than to hold you in my arms. Parenting is hard work, there are sleepless nights, poopy explosions career ambiguities and a narrowing of personal time and space but I do this all not because I'm selfless. Quite the opposite. I do it because you are the best part of me. You are the best thing I ever did. In giving I gain. In doing I receive. And no matter what I will always love you. I loved you when you were two lines on a pregnancy test. I loved you when you were a flicker on the ultrasound machine and a four-chambered heart or a kick against my womb.  Fly a kite, ride a bike, get straight A's, be the first desi NBA super-star. Or don't. I'll love you either way.

I planned to stop writing you monthly letters now that you're one. I also thought we'd be checking out the housing market on Mars [though that commute. . .] by your first birthday too. These moments when I sit down to reflect on the month past mean a lot to me and now, I'm not sure I want to stop. I hope when you're old enough to read this you enjoy reading them as much as I've loved writing them.

Happy First Birthday my love. I  can't wait for all that is to come. What fun we will have, you and I.

Love,

Your Mama

Birthdays, Blogoversaries, give-aways and delurk-n-say-hi?****

Waleed turned one, we had a picnic, we cut a cake, and it couldn't have been more perfect. A lot more to say but while I let the thoughts marinate, in honor of birthdays, and seven years of blogging fun if you're reading, please say hi! [and anything else you wish to share, like who you are, when you started reading, salmon or halibut? or whatever stream of consciousness strikes you!] Last time I asked y'all to delurk for a blogoversary was five years earlier, and I still remember the awesome comments and how they made me smile. While blogging is about writing, its also about community, and really, that's the true enduring part of it all. If you've been reading, quiet or otherwise, and are interested, I thought it finally time on the downhill slope from Waleed's first birthday, to share my give-away! This is my way of saying thank you for reading. These are not sponsored-gift, they're from me and while I wish I could offer golden tubas, or something equally fancy I'm sharing these things because they mean something to me and make me excited to give with the hopes you'll enjoy receiving them. Plus, with four different gifting opportunities, there will be more odds to win:

1. One super-sized decorative box of my favorite candies and chocolates ever.
2. One collected assortment of my favorite candles.
3. A brand new copy of my favorite book on motherhood ever or my favorite book- not on motherhood- ever- your choice.
4. $15 Gift Card to Babies R US

To enter: Leave a comment on this post and tell me you want to enter and click follow for my blog on the side-bar! For extra entries: follow my writing blog and/or link back to my blog from your blog sidebar. Let me know in the comments which of these you did so I know how many entries to enter you for. I had initially thought of entries for retweets, etc. but I want to contain entries to people who read, be they longtime or recent readers. And local friends who silently read? It's open to everyone! 

Because overseas shipping costs might run me the equivalent of a semester's tuition I'm limiting entry for #1 and #2 to US/Canada, but if you live overseas and Babies-R-Us and/or Amazon ships to you, please let me know and I'll enter you for just the gift-card and/or book drawing! [Pretty sure Amazon ships book almost anywhere unless you live in Antartica. [As an aside, if you're reading from Antartica a) Sorry! and b) Please say hi! How cool to have a reader from Antartica!] If you read but are not one to enter give-aways, say hi anyways because knowing who is reading makes my day :) 

**Updated: Many of you have said that its hard to leave a comment, I think google is acting funny with comments, if you try to leave it using the "Name/URL" option, hopefully it will work? Please let me know if you're having issues!
*** UPDATED to add that since its Mem Day weekend and I have family in town- will update the winners on Tuesday!!!

Contest ends midnight EST May 28- seven years from the day I began blogging!

Three Beautiful Things Thursday

Driving through Andalusia nearly two years ago on a scorching hot summer day we passed a sunflower field eviscerated by the sun; heads down, leaves gone, their little bodies brown instead of the brilliant yellow I love. Every last sunflower dead. Except one. One sunflower in a sea of thousands, alive and bright, its head up and facing the world despite the odds.

The next month two lines told me life might change forever. It was the might of my topsy turvy pregnancy that filled me with worry. I won't pretend I achieved any sort of zen, it was 280 days of worry because nothing is certain until it is. But this picture? The memory of this sunflower, centered me. It gave me a measure of peace. It was my symbol for hope. Each time I saw it I thought of my own little sunflower growing inside me, remembering that with Him all things are possible.

 Waleed turns one Saturday. Time no longer meanders as it did when I was pregnant, instead I've boarded a bullet train and it shows no sign of slowing. And this past week I began feeling a bit melancholy until my friend Saba called, asking to meet up before Waleed's birthday. I brought you something, she said when I saw her today, and pulled out a gift-bag. No need for gifts, I began with a smile and a protest until I looked inside:

A dozen hand-made sunflower cupcakes with the ladybugs that land on my son each chance they get. They're for you, she said with a smile. It's mother's day weekend and you're a great mother.  I stared at these sunflowers. Here, not to center me. Not to stave off fear. But sunflower cupcakes from a dear friend. I tried to explain to her what this gift meant to me, but the words got stuck in my throat. How can I articulate what it means to look at these sweet sunflowers for a child I called Sunflower until they placed him in my arms? It's when I realized: I've come full circle. My dream came true.

As gifts from friends afar perch themselves on my doorstep and I hold these cupcakes made with love from a dear friend, I feel the melancholy vanish like powder in a stream. My son is growing up yes, but my son is growing up. I'm so lucky to see him bloom before my eyes. [And Saba  needs to start a cupcake shop, or a baking blog, don't you agree?]

This was my three beautiful things Thursday but I'm sure you counted well more than three. Hope you had a beautiful Thursday too.

Thoughts on misdirected hate

This past Sunday was a busy day of painting, shopping, swing-pushing, barbecuing, the company of friends, and Sunday evening, sitting on the couch to catch up on TV which was promptly interrupted by the announcement: Bin Laden is dead and people are cheering on the streets; my initial reaction? Numbness. I thought of the lives lost, both Muslim and non-Muslim. I thought of how 9/11 forever altered the landscape of this country and my life. The hate not confined to distant lands but bubbling up where I lived; bigotry once hidden now gnashing its teeth without apology. As numbness faded, relief settled in as did a sense of justice. But I still didn't want to dance. Even the mother who watches the death row inmate die for killing her child does not grin and throw a ticker-tape parade. Yes, his death prevents future atrocities at his hands but his death does not erase what happened, what can never be undone, and the hate that remains like exposed wires.

The next day friends asked, are you okay? I didn't get it until I turned on the news and found the answer: He was found in Pakistan. They must have known. They' meaning the country and all its hundred million plus inhabitants. Pakistan is our worst enemy a pundit declared. I then understood my friends concerns. Blame Pakistan. Blame its people. Blame me.

Fifth Grade, the Gulf War began and I was bullied for the crime of sharing the same faith as Saddam Hussein. Those were cruel days and I still bear the scars but as an adult I can look back at those narrowed eyes and tell myself they were children, they didn't know better. But now? I see the same vitriol by people fully grown. Narrowed eyes taking in a billion plus people and seeing complicity in all. It's simpler to hate an entire group- blame an entire nation but the truth is not so simple, and to think otherwise is to dehumanize and is dangerous.

Did the Pakistani government know Bin Laden was there? I don't know. Did I? No. I'm a teacher. A lawyer. A writer. A mother. A wife. A sister. A daughter. I am sometimes moody. Often gullible. I love Mad Men. And Sunflowers. I am Muslim. I am not a terrorist and I am not going to explain or apologize for anyone's actions but my own and perhaps that of my child if he knocked over your drink. Sorry about that.

I planned to write a three beautiful things post about my son's first birthday but with fingers pointed at a country of millions who like me, are 99.9% blameless, I feel I have to say something however impotent these words may be. The happenings of the world matter and a man who caused too much pain to too many people and spit upon my faith is gone. This is a good thing; but my life is lived in the little corner of the world I inhabit and I try to inhabit it with integrity trying to be the best friend, sister, mother, wife, daughter I can be. I hope when you see me, that is what you see.

I've never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure- Mark Twain.

For more reading on this topic, please read the lovely posts of Faiqa and Baraka.

Parenting-ish questions as the clock strikes 'one'

This Saturday my son will be one years old. While I know he'll still be a baby, I find myself cherishing these precious remaining days of official babyhood as though he'll be asking for a car and applying for college come Sunday. I've also realized that with one year comes not all the answers, but instead more questions about the newness of all that is to come [and other random questions that manage to squeeze their way into my stream of consciousness]. I share them here in the hopes that perhaps y'all may have advice. It's been five years since my last random assortment of questions,  any advice [and/or commiseration] much appreciated!

1. While I've expanded my cooking range these past few years, outside of daal and a handful of other desi dishes, I don't know any vegetarian main dishes. Waleed eats way more table food lately [despite the fact that he's still toothless] and I want to learn some vegetarian recipes so he doesn't grow up thinking meat is mandatory in main dishes. I just have no clue where to begin. And as a complete novice I don't feel comfortable engaging in andaza se methodology nor picking a random recipe only to put in the effort to find it doesn't taste too good [which we learned the hard way with tofu. We don't like tofu]. Since I know many of you are avid cooks: What's your favorite vegetarian recipe? Could you share? Pretty please?

2. I am a runner. In my head. In truth I'm a hopelessly horrible runner. I can power-walk 5.0 on the treadmill for five miles, but for some reason, jogging at the exact same pace? I'm out of commission in three minutes. In seventh grade, last in the one-mile run, I asked my PE teacher, how can I improve? To which he responded, maybe you just can't. Since then I've wanted to prove him wrong. But haven't. I heard of the couch to 5K program years ago and I begin it faithfully only to give up. It probably doesn't work anyways, I told myself. Except my friend Yen is now a runner thanks to the program. I need to do this. I need to be able to run a mile without ending it like an exceptionally slow turtle. I need to show Waleed that if you stick with something, no matter how hard, its possible to succeed. And I need to prove my PE teacher wrong. In the spirit of believing in myself I've ordered a jogging stroller and plan to beat this obstacle once and for all. Avid runners, advice? Anyone start like me and now runs, no problem? Have any of you run with a jogging stroller? It seems bulky and tough to navigate hills. Tips, advice, much appreciated!

3. Lately Waleed enjoys smacking me. He thinks its the funniest. thing. ever. After a lunch of smiles and babbles as I lean in to give him a kiss- smack. While it doesn't hurt and I know its just him being silly as I look at my soon-to-be budding toddler I wonder when does disciplining begin? We do tell him not to touch things and he mostly listens but we certainly don't do time-out or any other form of repercussions if he decides not to listen. When did you begin disciplining your child? How did you know your child was old enough to? How did you do it? 

4. I wrote about how difficult it was in the early weeks for me to nurse so I'm shocked at how difficult a task it seems to stop nursing now. While I always planned to wean him at a year, now that its here, I have no clue how to do it. Nursing is how I put him down for naps, for sleep, and how I coax him into staying in bed with me a little while longer when he's up like a perky bunny at 6:45am. He won't take a bottle, and while he'll drink milk from a sippy cup, it doesn't leave him drowsy. How long did you nurse? How did you break the nurse-to-sleep association? and how on earth did you wean?

5. Speaking of first birthdays, I'm getting him a cake, an outfit, and will take an unseemly amount of photos but I wasn't planning to get him an actual gift-wrapped present until I saw this and really want to get it from him [a more affordable version available at Target]. Do you give gifts for your baby's first birthday, perhaps the only birthday of their lives when they are not demanding such things of you? What did you give your child on their first birthday?

6. His upcoming birthday reminds us of the fact that we have only one more year of free baby flights. Pre-baby K and I delighted in this whole 'fly free til two!' concept until we realized that its not so simple to travel with a baby. We've flown at least five times post-baby and each time makes me vow it will be my last. Still, I miss our vacations, we used to take one big one a year, and I'd really like to try it. Now that he'll be older, perhaps it will be more manageable? Is travel with a toddler easier than with a wee baby? Anyone traveled far with a toddler and find it a relaxing and rejuvenating experience as opposed to one that makes home seem like a paradise oasis? Would you recommend it?