Happy eight year blogoversary to me!

I'm secretly beginning to suspect I have a house of magically reappearing boxes. Just when I think I've made some headway, I'll walk into the loft and find five more freshly sealed boxes. Unpacking is not so bad but figuring out where things go in the new home is a challenge. As I wade through boxes and chase my son [who is determined to climb said boxes or unpack the china plates quite forcefully onto the hardwood floors] my ability to connect coherent sentences into a blog post is a bit limited.

But how could I not post today? My goodness, look at the time-- I've been blogging for eight years. I'm not sure I ever thought I would be doing this for quite so long but through teaching, law school, squirrels, motherhood and everything in between this blog has been my constant and I wouldn't have the motivation to write here if it weren't for you reading and supporting me through the years. Thank you.

So on this eight year anniversary I have a small, teeny tiny favor to ask you, one I asked six years ago: If you're reading these words, who you be? No baked goods or give-aways but you will have my sincere appreciation for making my day.

On photography, college courtyards, and the future

I'm fortunate to be friends with gifted photographers. Like Cylinda and Yen, professionals in every sense of the word, who tentatively told me about their great new camera and would we be so kind as to oblige them with a photo shoot so they could practice their portrait and running-kiddo shots? 

As I'm a kind and giving friend [its just my nature] we agreed to be their practice models for a high-end photo shoot right before Waleed's second birthday.

I got the pictures back recently and well, they're amazing. Not only because of how beautiful the quality of the pictures were but because of the moments captured.

Many made me grin as I saw him laugh one second because he felt joy, and then in the next instant sink to the ground in serious circumspection as he stared at his trucks and how to align them just so. It's awesome to live with someone who lives so sincerely and deeply in each moment.

But some evoked other emotions. Like the juxtaposition of my baby clutching his pale blue ball and running through the college courtyard.

Something about it made me blink back tears, until I saw the next picture, from the outtakes, and then I had a trickle of tears running down my cheek because well, in this move to our new house and all the hustle and bustle of putting away clothes, unpacking books and running after my son as he unrolls the toilet paper to wrap artistically around our breakfast table, I forget how brief this all is. He won't be fishing out the box of Q-tips from the depths of a packed box to fling above his head like confetti when he's twenty. He might be in a college courtyard then. But certainly not frolicking through with his favorite plastic ball. These pictures reminded me for the umpteenth time, the stealthy way time moves even those seemingly long stretches of toddler-days [longer than the equinox sometimes]. And this final picture from the outtakes captures what words properly can't-- it captures what raising children is ultimately all about. 

I call it The Future.

Connecting

We moved into our house and have until now been sans internet since Sunday. I've tried unplugging from television and internet in the past. And failed. So it was interesting to have the power of plugging taken away from me with even my 'smart phone' refusing to comply consistently with my need desire for connectivity. Still, the break helped me recharge, unpack, and eat ice cream on the deck at night because well, what else where there to do?

Since being away, I've been sad to see things haven't been so great for my friend Kate. She's held my hand in many a tough time and I'm so sad things are so very difficult for her right now. It's not raining, or pouring for her, its a series of twisters and typhoons; if you have a minute, please click over and send her a word of support, kind words can go a long way to light very dark places.

Hope all is well with you and yours.

Thoughts on space pods, moving, and self-acceptance

Thoughtful graffiti on a gazebo in my village.

We slowly lug boxes to our new house each time we head over to let in a painter or steam cleaner but tomorrow begins our official move. The movers come Monday. Our Pod arrived today. So very Jetsons my brother's wife laughed when we described the pod process and how we filled it at our old home and how now it sits waiting  at our new one. For me this method of storage is less strange than the fact that we managed to live seven months without all this stuff we needed so badly we paid good money to store it. While I've missed my California King and my leather sofas, all those boxes wrapped and stacked upon each other? I could hardly tell you what's inside them. We did without them for over half a year, surely, we don't need them.

Speaking of boxes, packing is more complicated with a toddler and should anyone find this blog hunting for the next big thing I suggest the invention of child-proof packing tape. Since my son presumes every package at our doorstep must be for him [which in all fairness, it typically is] he has learned to tear open Amazon boxes with his bare hands. While adorable to see him open a box of diapers in this manner, its a bit more work to pack, then repack, and repeat. 

Due to all this repacking and retaping I walked over to our local CVS for aforementioned inferior packing tape this afternoon and tried not to dwell too hard on the whole walking thing and how this is my last weekend in my village. With farm raised burgers. And coffee just down the way. The lovely oak tree that now blooms a vibrant green as woodpeckers and robins perch just outside my window. And Toy Park the most amazing thing to have ever entered my son's universe. My friends tease me as I bemoan this loss and they're right, I'm not moving to Alaska. . . still it will be different. It will be nice. But it won't be this.

K promises if I simply can't forget my village we can always move back into a charming fixer upper and enroll in every "how to fix XYZABC" course offered in the surrounding metro areas. I might hold him to this. And while this just may be a sweet little lie I tell myself,  it does help take away some of the longing for all I'm leaving behind.

All that said I cannot wait to have a house again. To watch a movie with surround sound. Or cook in a kitchen I can turn around in and can hold more than one person. And having a garage, sweet mother of all that is beautiful on this earth, I have missed having a garage. Best of all? I can't wait to let my son run around screaming and banging pots and being as absolutely true to his inner-monkey as he wishes to be.

I've learned so much from my time here. I've learned that the years I lived slightly unsatisfied so far from the city never had to be that way and that should I ever find myself unhappy with my circumstances its my responsibility to take the steps to make the change. I might not find a better alternative but its up to me to own it and try to figure it out. I only get one life. It's worth it to make that extra effort. I've learned a morning spent on the futon imagining the conversations of the squirrels outside the window with my son is not time wasted even if the laundry remains unfolded. Most of all, surrounded by so many like-minded people and going through the heartbreak I did last month helped me finally accept that while I may not fit the mold of my faith-based community, there's no sense feeling badly about it and while I'm moving from hippy-central the place I most fit in here in Atlanta, self-acceptance and reliance does not come from where you are but accepting who you are.

But most enlightening of all? If the three of us could cohabitate in an 800 square foot condo [with one bathroom!] for seven months while walking on tip-toes and come out of it still on speaking terms? We're doing pretty good.

Here's to our new home. May the Supreme fill it with His light and mercy and bless us with health and happiness, vegetables that grow, and all that is beautiful and good.

Happy Twenty-Four Month Birthday Waleed

Dear Waleed,

And then you were two. Two. I'm trying to wrap my head around this number because somehow two feels big. You see, two leads to three. Which leads to four. Which leads to kindergarten, and middle school, and high school and then off to college on a baseball scholarship perhaps very far away from me.

But that's a long way off from today. Today we spent the morning at the park, playing with your gifts, like the big blue ball, your sidewalk chalk, and examining toys sent from friends and family from afar. We rounded off the evening with a bite of pizza at our favorite spot and home to a cake full of candles. It was a simple birthday. No crowds, or jugglers, or clowns. Just the three of us together, kissing you at exactly 7:02 and feeling over so grateful you're in our life. Hope you don't look back and complain at the lack of said jugglers, but for me? It was as perfect as birthdays get.

I've recorded the details of your year in your monthly updates and it's been so amazing to see you grow as you offer your sippy cup to strangers. Hug your friends and shyly kiss the girls on the cheek. The way your eyes gloss over with joy at the sight of cars both toys and actual, but most of all I find it so endearing how protective you are of me. I've been to the doctor twice in your second year and each time you've been absolutely beside yourself as you protectively grip my hand and glare at the doctor as he checks my ear or takes my blood pressure. Once, when you thought your father was being attacked by a throng of children [he was in fact, being propositioned for piggy back rides] you leapt into the crowd and shielded your body over his to keep anyone from harming him. I love this. I just do.

But the most sincerely stunning part of your turning two? I figured, by now some of this would wear off. That I'd feel a bit ho-hum and bogged down by the whole mothering business. After all, two years is a long time. But its so far from the case. How can I when nothing ever stays the same? One minute you're pointing to pictures of cows. The next minute you say moo. One minute you're examining a closed box of diapers, the next you've sprung them open from their plastic wrapping and are proceeding to create a lake of diapers on the living room floor and grinning as though you've done me an enormous favor.  Two years in I still have moments where I stand and watch you and am afraid to pinch myself because I just might wake up from this beautiful dream I never want to leave. So no, so far none of this is getting old. I'm beginning to believe it never really will.

I planned to stop my monthly letters when you turned one. And then, I vowed when you turned two. But writing them brings me joy. And I hope one day, you will read these [maybe during the potentially brooding teenage years when you don't love me quite so openly and without reserve as you love today, though imagining you brooding makes me giggle considering the monkey that you currently are] and you will see in these letters just how loved you've always been, so I'm not sure if I'm ready to stop just yet either. I guess just as everything in parenting, I'll take it as it comes. Happy Twenty-Four months my love. I love you now. I always will.

Love,

Your Mama

May 7, 2010

May 7, 2011

May 7, 2012

Toddlers, and toys, and crafts! oh my!

While my son is still perfectly content with amusing himself 'driving' cars, reading books, and doing incredible acts of imagination with cardboard boxes as they are alternately cars, laundry machines, cribs for stuffed animals, robots [and he gets very annoyed when I try to use them to, you know, pack] he also appreciates toys more than ever before. In our new house I'm planning to convert the formal living room into a play area for him and plan to stock it full of things to help grow his creativity and imagination. I'm not sure yet what will go there, but am planning to follow the guidelines in Brain Rules For Baby and provide tons of opportunity for creative free play with blocks, a bookshelf, musical instruments, and role playing toys of some sort [though he does role play with adult sized brooms which seems to work just fine]. I also plan to have a sandbox outside and a small inflatable wading pool and sidewalk chalk.

The only issue is, he doesn't have a lot of toys at this point, toys are expensive, and most of the toys I have bought for him, like his activity cube, get played with for one second and then quickly forgotten. So while I'm considering adding a toy kitchen, a train track, and other toys into this play area, I'm wondering if he only lights up when they're other people's toys and will be less compelled if they're his.

I'd also love to do more activities and crafts with him. I'm a touch nervous since he's not in daycare and getting the structured learning, he might be missing out on something and I'd love to add more activities and crafts to my repertoire. I've been googling away to no avail as most of my searches lead me to printable pages [which, even as a teacher I abhorred ditto worksheets] and sites more filled with ads than ideas. I did find a few like this one with a handful of ideas, and this one which has a few things I could do but making a full-sized functional video arcade out of cardboard boxes? That aint ever gonna me. I'm looking for simple but fun craft and activities like feeding bread to the ducks at the lake, painting pebbles, making sand art or stringing macaroni on a necklace. I have a nice long list of 101 things I want to do with my child, but I'd love more ideas particularly of the crafting indoor everyday kind.

What sort of toys does/did your toddler love the most? If you have a play area set aside how did you set it up? What sorts of goodies lie within? And what sort of activities and crafts do you do with your toddler in and around the home that help them grow, are fun, and don't involve printable worksheets? Any websites you recommend? Any advice much appreciated!

On going shoeless

This past year I've probably been to more open houses than there are houses in certain cities. Though most of them now blur together in my mind's eye, there's one I've never forgotten. The one with a lovely oak front porch, large bay windows, and a pile of shoes at the front door which soon made sense as I read the sign on the front door printed in black and white lettering informing all visitors to please remove shoes before entering. Well then. It was most certainly strange to walk through a stranger's home without shoes [reminding me of the burglars of Home Alone and all the um, foot related challenges they faced] but the act of walking barefoot on smooth hardwood floors was not an entirely unpleasant sensation. Their daughter has severe allergies, the agent apologized also, the owners noticed it keeps the place cleaner. Now that we've bought a home, it got me thinking:

1. I've never had allergies. Until this year. This year I'm a coughing, sneezing, watery eyed mess and the EPA found that shoeless homes reduce lead-based toxins in their homes by 60% not to mention all the other pesticides, chemicals, and soot we drag in from all the places we walk.
2. The previous owners of our house kept the place immaculate and many bloggers I read wrote about how much easier it was to keep the home clean when they left their outdoor shoes outside and as someone engaged in a perpetual David versus Goliath battle with the state of order in my home, the thought of one step to make things simpler is soothing.
3. High heels pockmark hardwoods.
4. And 34 other reasons I found on a blog devoted entirely to the matter of going shoeless.

So we're thinking, in addition to making [and following through with] a cleaning schedule that will [hopefully] keep the home in manageable shape, we're going shoeless. I thought K would stare at me like I had sprouted antennas on my head when I brought this up but instead, he nodded as we approached the house the next day and promptly removed his shoes before stepping inside. And my kiddo? He's always looking to ditch the shoes, so as a threesome we're squared away.

As for visitors, the plan right now is to put up a polite note near the front door with a shoe rack. We'll buy some slippers people could slip on if they want their feet covered but I do wonder how people will respond to this. As a desi, its not uncommon for guests to take off their shoes, but not everyone does this as a general rule. And many find shoeless requests rude as people coming over may not be prepared and might be sporting mismatched socks or craggy toenails. And how far does one go? Does the plumber remove his shoes as well? The movers? Or are there social exceptions for service folk? What about if you want to step outside to your deck or check in on your [aspirational] vegetable garden? Mats by the outdoor entrances with back yard shoes? Backyard shoes!? Outdoor shoes! Indoor shoes! Shoes for guests! Oh my! Going shoeless could be hefty on the budget!

Have a shoeless home yourself? Ever gone shoeless in the home of another? What are your thoughts on the topic? Any advice or perspective most appreciated!