Category — The Kids as a Force

There are some definite perks to having a family that right now is a bit like Romper Room, and there are some definite drawbacks. One thing about having four children, the oldest of whom is six, and being a homeschooler to boot, is that the moment you turn your head from the dear darling angels, they turn into beasts.

You turn back to them, in shock, unable to comprehend that in four minutes of your inattention they have poured sand into everyone’s hair and spread mashed potatoes over the floor, but it’s true. They really have. Or they have gone and slapped each other and everyone is crying.

Leafy is doing this screamy thing lately, mostly to protect himself and his things from his sweet, strong, and controlling older sister, and his sweet, strong, and domineering older brother, and the sound that he makes causes me to immediately walk out of the room so that I can flush my head down the toilet.

I can’t bear the screamy thing.

The worst form of inattention in my house seems to be Mama’s computer time. Can I get an amen? Because the minute, the very second, that my eyeballs focus themselves on the screen, all of Pompeii erupts in my house and I’m too fragile for Pompeii.

So, I’ve limited computer time to 1) The two seconds that I’m awake before the children are, and I’m thinking, YES, I’m up! They’re not! I’m UP! They’re NO… Oh dang. 2) The two seconds that I manage to stay awake after they go to bed, and 3) Studio time, which is for my novel, and occasionally a blog post. Occasionally. Also 4) the very occasional internet glut, which happens when Chinua asks me if I’d like some time off and I don’t feel the ticker going, telling me to write, write, write. This is the time that I read blog posts, when I get to read them at all.

And when large holidays loom up before us like wildebeests coming out of the mud, those four seconds before the day and after the day are taken up by wrapping and cleaning. Nothing for it, wrapping and cleaning must occur.

This is all a big buildup to say that I didn’t die, neither did my fingers become paralyzed. I did take an only partially voluntary break from the internet.

What’s been going on is Christmas, and giving, and the reading of Christmas stories, and celebrating, the the requisite Christmas cry (I have to cry on Christmas Day, it’s a tradition) and a Christmas party in our backyard which is a little farther along from looking like a construction site, and paper stars with lights in them, Goan style, and wow- we’ve been busy.

I know. I’m all, poor me, I’m forced to actually interact with my children and play games with them, rather than do fun grown-up things like obsess about the yarns I cannot buy and stalk knitters on the internet. Also crafters, although I’ve decided to stop imagining that I am a crafter.

I had to drive to the capital, Panaji, to do my Christmas shopping, which I did for the kids in a tiny toy store with approximately four hundred people who were packed shoulder to shoulder. I sweated and wept, because I hate buying things that are cheap and I had very few choices, but in the end I’m happy with what we got.

Then, yesterday, I decided to make samosas for our Christmas Party, and ended up finishing with a pan of delicious samosas and a vow to never enter the kitchen again in my life. That’s my M.O. Burn yourself out with silly pastry-type foods for large parties.

Anyhow. We all cope in varying ways, and I’m recovering from Christmas (which was actually very small and perfect, although sad because we were far from family) by looking through silly photos of my family. Take this one, for example:

It would be fine, except for the fact that the YaYa Sister is having a moment of crisis.

Or this one:

This one is great. Except that Yaya is still in crisis, Leafy has joined her, Kid A is a little too happy, I look like I’m sharing some cheesy joke with you, and why is everyone barefoot? Also, what is happening to Chinua’s hand?

Or here:

YaYa and Leafy have seen the silver lining behind the dark cloud,  but now Chinua is sharing a cheesy joke and Kid A is facing a direction called AWAY FROM THE CAMERA, and what is happening to my hand?

Or Exhibit D:

Mama’s smiling a little too big, Daddy looks like he doesn’t wan to be there, Leafy’s doing his best Magnum, and Kid A has gone GQ on us. YaYa? Can we get a normal smile? Please?

But here’s a shot of Uncle Matty with a stroller.

And here’s one of some ladies with sticks on their heads.

And here’s one of Matty with some fruit. This is the fruit and veggie stall that I go to almost every day, and when they realized that Matty was gone, back to Canada for good, or at least for a long while, I could have sworn that they all took their hats off and laid them over their hearts. But that could have just been my imagination.

Yes, this has really helped me to cope with my post-Christmas blues.

Hello Ms. Ballerina.

Well Hello Yourself, Mr Rubik’s Cube!

Kid A and YaYa seriously played like this for an hour. I love it when they play like this, especially when I get to overhear what they’re saying.

(Rubik: “Do you want to watch Cars?”

Flexible Ballerina Girl: “No, not really. There aren’t any girls in Cars.”)

And it’s better than someone “accidentally” getting kicked in the face every two minutes. Wrestling. Ugh. I mean, I guess it’s okay. And my hearing went years ago from the shrieking, so that’s okay too.

(Things I am loving these days!)

This little guy came to visit us the other day, landing on my friend’s skirt, and then flitting over to this curtain, where he posed nicely for me. He’s not so little, though. His wing span was almost as long as my hand.

I have sick kids. They’re not too bad, but the weather has changed again and it seems that when the weather changes, flu comes. At least that’s what Jaya told me. But she also told me that snails are poisonous and I shouldn’t let YaYa play with them. (Not true.) Anyways, whatever the reason, the poor Superstar Husband and the three older kids are sick. They don’t let it bother them all that much. They’re just a little more clingy and they don’t want to eat.

YaYa woke up last night to go to the bathroom. Let me say that again. YaYa woke up out of her sleep all by her ownself to go to the bathroom last night. Except she did come to get me. But she WOKE UP. This has never happened. I remember bragging about what a good sleeper she was, back when she was a small toddler, and how someone said dolefully, “Those are the kids who have problems with bedwetting,” (imagine Eeyore’s voice) and how I thought, Well gee, Puddleglum, thanks for bursting my bubble. But then he was right.

I blame Haight St. I blame the room over the street and the room over the alley where we lived when she was a baby, next to Amoeba Records on Haight and Stanyan, where everything sounded as though hundreds of people were yelling outside at all hours of the night, and where the bouncer kicked everyone out of the club across the street at 2:30 every night and then stood on the street yelling, “Go, GO, GO” in a booming voice to get them to disperse, presumably so they wouldn’t bother the neighbors. (!) Where she had to learn to sleep like a sleepy sloth just for self-preservation.

I think this “waking up” speaks well of days ahead, although I am only tentatively thinking this.

Of course, Leafy took his turn and wet the bed last night (he doesn’t usually) and the baby of course was soaking in his cloth diapers, but two out of four isn’t bad, right?! Right.

Let’s just look at that moth again. Mmmmmm. Pretty.

(New post on making chapatti on Fly Fishes Fly!)

Right before I had Leafy, I took some time to write out all of my birth stories. It was a good preparation for another birth experience, and I felt so happy reading through them again, just now.

If you are interested, you can read them too.

The Blackberry Baby

The Ladybug Baby

The Redwood Baby

All of our kids have been born in memorable places, at memorable times. We’ve been blessed by their arrivals, three sweet times, and it helps me through my hip pain (have I mentioned my hip pain?) and general complete discomfort right now to read about the wonderful end results of this thing called pregnancy.

Of course, I do have the kids themselves to remind me of the joys of babies. The kids, with their love and cuddles and sweetness and demanding voices and shrieking and fighting and running the opposite way when I am too big to get up and run after them (Leafy). Oh. Um. Sorry. I may be a little exhausted right now.

Seriously, I know that I am a woman blessed, and my kids are my favorite people in the world.

Now, if only I had a little more energy…

(Chinua snapped the photo, a few weeks back.)

That’s pretty much all I can say.

One thing that’s been interesting about being here is that my little world of contacts among the Western monsooners (those crazy Westerners who are here out of season, whether they be ex-pats or well, ex-pats) has opened the doors in my home quite a bit.

What?  What did that sentence even mean?

Okay, let me try again.  I’ve been receiving a lot of advice.  Which is good.  Because I need it.

This store has great shopping, if you need clean shelves and something that feels sparkly.  But normally you should shop at the market in town, because it is way cheaper.

You can get cheap dog food here (leftover pieces of chicken).

This pharmacy has oils and natural products.

Don’t swim during monsoon.

Open your windows every day, and keep your fans on 24 hours, to fight the mildew.

Close your windows at dusk, to fight the mosquitoes.

And then, You’d better get your kids in school, because it’s not good to be with them all day.

*

Okay.  I feel like I just opened up a can of worms, but heck.  I’m a homeschooler.  I love it.  LOVE it.  It’s literally my favorite part of being a parent.  I feel like I see the best sides of my kids when I’m teaching them.  It’s probably because I’m such a know-it-all, or just so plain nerdy, but I love to homeschool.  And the kids love it too.

So anyways, I’m realizing that this little community is a lot like a fishing village.  You receive so many comments about what you have to do.  And the other part is that it’s international.  So I had a woman say to me, the other day, that she has been bothered here by how little stimulation there is for the kids.  And I’m all, hello?  Stimulation?  In India?  There is stimulation galore.  It just depends on what you are looking for.  And for mine, counting cows as we zoom down the street is awesome.  YaYa moos at them.  And waves at the dogs.

(Just on that note, here’s a little piece of advice for driving in India:  The dogs will observe your horn, but the cows will not.  They are just entitled to lie in the middle of the road, thanks very much, so you’d better slow the heck down and save your horn, because it will get you nowhere.)

YaYa calls out, “Oh!  Pretty!” while we pass a man who is pulling a wagon filled with pots of flowers.

Everywhere there is something to see.  My kids have grown up in the woods, for goodness’ sake.

So anyways, thanks for the encouragement.  It means the world.

I’m feeling a lot better.  Especially as the kids are still waking up laughing.  Dancing around when it is time for tea.  Insisting on following the same routine every day.  Telling me that Chapatis and mangos are their favorite foods.  Going off to watch a soccer game with Chinua.  Visiting a little friend in the next village.

I’m getting a lot of advice about the way things should be done, and it’s good, but I’m realizing that it’s still okay to be me.

Oh, and as far as my hips go, when we receive our shipping stuff, and I get my mattress, I think I’ll be doing a lot better.  The one I’m sleeping on now feels like a block of cement.  I do not kid.  Also, there are nothing but straight backed chairs in our house, so I’m going to put a sort of couch together soon. These things will help for a fourth time mama who’s feeling a bit peaked lately.

Since I’m guessing that you don’t want to hear about the power outs last night when we were try in the crazy humidity, when Chinua and I lay on our backs staring at the ceiling fans, listening to the barking dogs outside… well, you’ve heard it all before, so maybe I’ll tell you about this conversation instead.

The kids come clambering onto our bed, obviously distraught.

Kid A- “Mooom, YaYa’s making everything wrecked!’

Me- “What’s she wrecking, honey?”

Kid A- “Well, it’s both of our birthdays today, and SHE’S trying to take the first bite out of ALL the cakes, and that’s not fair, because I want the first bite.

I stare at him for a minute.

Me- “But don’t you think it makes sense for each of you to have your own cake, and then each of you can have the first bite of your cake?  Since you’re both having your birthday?”

Kid A- “I want to do that, but everytime I try, she just CHOP CHOP CHOPS (quick slashing motion with his hands) it UP, and then she takes the first BITE, of ALL the cakes!”

Me- “Soooo, why don’t you make sure that both of you have your own cake, and then YaYa can chop hers up?  And both of you can have the first bite?”

YaYa- “I just want a taste of his.  It’s coconut blackberry.”

Kid A- “NO NO NO, you shouldn’t take MINE!”

YaYa- “C’mon, Kid A!  Let’s go get another coconut blackberry one…”

They run off, leaving me shaking my head over the fact that I have perfectly regular conversations sorting out arguments about invisible cakes made of AIR.

And then there was the moment, today, when YaYa, touching the back of her knee, said, inexplicably and jubiantly, “Oh!  Your knee pits help you walk!” like she had solved what had long been a mystery to her.

Oh these kids.  Treasure.

The other day my Superstar Husband came home with this:

When I opened it up, I found this:

A garland of jasmine, which smelled like pure heaven, because there is nothing on earth that smells like jasmine other than, well, jasmine.  And don’t you hate how they never really get it right, when they try to put it into soaps and stuff?

Details and cooking adventures (last night I mistakenly tried to make chicken soup from something that turned out to be a lot like chicken spam) and homesickness aside, it’s perfect to be able to buy a garland of jasmine wrapped in a banana leaf from a man walking down the street.

Well, finding out that they are sick makes the whining just a little more bearable, because I know that they have not suddenly turned crazy on me.

Suddenly my sympathy kicks in, and I can be all, “Awwww, you’re not feeling well, you poor thing,” almost every time.

We left the kids with some new friends (i.e. strangers to them until five minutes previously) today, while we went to meet with some people.  As we encouraged them to be polite and listen really well, Kid A made this astute observation.

“I’m really good and listen to other people who watch me.  I—I don’t know why I don’t always listen to you.” Sound familiar, anybody?  We don’t know either, bud.  If you figure it out, let us know. (They were excellent while at the new friends’ house, by the way.)

Dude, I am so, so blessed.  I know it.  On the ferry home today I watched my kids watching TV with their arms around each other, and I realized again, I am so, so blessed.

At the same time, I wrote my friend an email tonight, telling her about the boats in the dock at Victoria’s Fisherman’s wharf,  and how I wandered around them, and my eyes caressed the smallest of them.  I was dreaming of days in the future when the children will be all grown up, and Chinua and I will live on a tiny boat and read books and eat fish and sail into the blue.

You have to know that I am all for living in the right now.  And that I treasure my precious young.

So as I wrote to my friend, I realized that dreaming of these (small) boats is a good indicator of how the kids have been DRIVING ME UP A WALL.   I’M GOING TO GO COMPLETELY INSANE IF ANYONE WHINES AT ME EVER AGAIN.

Okay.  I’m done.

Victoria!

We arrived this very evening, and the first thing I told my Superstar Husband is that if he ever said “Victoria Island” again, Canadians would surely mock him. Victoria is on Vancouver Island, confusing as that may be. Vancouver is on no island at all.

He questioned whether it would be right to mock him. Right or not right, there is simply no way to get rid of one of the true natural skills of the people of this nation. Mockery. In Canada, it’s a civil right.

Here’s a story, though, since my brain has left me, I’m supposing to nurture my unborn baby.

Before we left Sacramento, the kids were running around and I was cooking. I wasn’t exactly sure of what they were doing, until they trooped into the kitchen with their new backpacks on, and YaYa held out two stuffed animals to me. “You’re going to have to carry these bears,” she said matter-of-factly.

Turns out they were “packing.” The backpacks were all full of stuffed animals. Which is helpful, you know, when you wake up in the morning and need a cuddle, but might not be so helpful if you need some clothing. So I said, “Wellllll, we’re not going to be bringing all of our stuffed animals with us. We’ll probably need some clothes.

They pranced off. And the next morning when I went to get Kid A dressed, I found that all of the clothing in his drawer was gone! Vanished. Or actually, in his backpack.

I think that eventually they’ll pick up some packing skillz. But for now- they need a little help.

I didn’t sleep too well last night, worrying about a friend. This morning I found out he was safe, which was a huge relief. I’m sure you’ve felt something like this before. I can’t tell my brain to stop it at night, when it’s moving so swiftly, and even when I managed to drop off into sleep land, my brain was going. In Technicolor. So it could have been a rough day.
But then my friend Jessie called and asked me if she could drop by with lunch. Since I’m still somewhat deaf (or just a bad listener) from my “someone sitting on my head” illness, I didn’t hear the “with lunch” part, so I was pleasantly surprised when she brought treats. We had a sort of picnic inside. And the kids didn’t fight! It was awesome.

During the afternoon, I worked on visa applications, and somewhere along the way, our UPS guy showed up. Can I just say that I love our UPS guy? He is seriously one of the nicest people- he acts as happy about packages as we are. “Looks exciting, it’s Bed Bath and Beyond!” he’ll say. Or, today, he said, “Must be something good, I need a signature!” And he’s bubbling over while he says these things. Maybe it’s the cool uniform, or the rockin’ truck with no doors that makes him so happy.
But the package was a good one. There were two, really.

The first one contained a book. Chinua and I have been buying a few books for our personal library in India. Some things I know will be available, like Penguin Classics and bestsellers that travelers have traded in. But some books… no. So as soon as I heard that one of my favorite people in the world, (I have so many favorite people, it appears!) Timothy Keller, had written a book called The Reason For God, I knew I had to have it. I’ve said before that I feel like some of his sermons saved my life. Now, this book. Well, I can’t wait to read it. And it seems that lots of other people are reading it too, since it made it to #7 on the NYT Bestsellers List.

The second box contained my combined Christmas and Birthday present , a very necessary journalistic tool, that second camera we’ve been needing so badly, a camera.

I feel as though I need to justify every single thing I ever buy. It’s one of my many issues.

But really, we needed a second camera. And I wanted one that was smaller than our giant. Something I could lug around with or without kids. Right now I feel like I have to choose one or the other, and as much as I’d like to choose the camera, the kids kind of come with the whole “mom” package. And they’re photogenic. This camera also has video abilities. (I’m not sure how to say that properly. Video skillz?) The ability to capture some of our life in India will be priceless, I think.

We got the Canon Powershot G9.

It’s supposed to have the best video out of any of the point and shoot range, with great features and good quality photos. I’ve never owned a non-SLR camera- even before digital, I always had a little manual SLR, so this was a leap, some would say in the wrong direction. But it’s small. I love that it has a hot shoe, so we can put our external flash on it, which is twice the size of the camera itself.

We used it to take a belly shot. Here I am today, at 19 weeks. Let’s all say 19 weeks! 19 weeks? Why is time zooming so?

We note that the camera is a little fuzzy at low lighting conditions. Then we use the camera to take a photo of my Superstar Cutie Husband.

Pretty good. Although it doesn’t do him justice. But then, what does?

And then, I confess, I made a video. A video that will take away three minutes of your life. And fill those minutes with cuteness. A video that is unashamedly mommish. A video of my kids, singing.

Kids singing from Rachel Ford on Vimeo.