Category — The Leaf Baby

Today we threw a birthday party for Leafy. He turned four with a flourish and a crown and a birthday hat combined.

I baked a cake in my stovetop oven.  I owe you a photo of my oven, which someone referred to today as the space missile.  The cake turned out perfectly, which totally surprised me.

The day after tomorrow I leave for a week to a) finish my book and b) rest.  I don’t know if I’ll make it through a week.  I’m already doubting myself, going, but I know I really need it.

I’m ignoring the rest of the housework tonight after a day of baking and games and snacks and a wee bit of babysitting. Ignoring ignoring, tra la la…

going to

bed!

Here’s some background behind yesterday’s little photo shoot. Hint: Watch Leafy

“Hey Mom, can we have some leftover plain noodles?”

“Sure, take them onto the porch.”

Why does Leafy have such a big handful of noodles?

Why is he attempting to shove two fistfuls of noodles into his face?

You can tell that at this point he’s realized his predicament. Too many noodles, too few hands.

Transferring the noodles. (Noodles on the pants!)

Ahhhh. Pile of noodles in one hand, feeding with the other.

Problem solved! (Noodles on the floor!)

(Wiping noodles off the hands onto the floor!)

Just so you’re aware, it’s pretty awesome to clean cooked pasta off of a marble floor. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Beat up art supplies in the morning with a bowl full of marigolds.

“Mama! Take a picture of me!”

Some sort of interesting archaeology by the YaYa sister.  A paintbrush and a rock.  Brush brush brush.  Knock the dust off.  Brush brush brush.

Enough bananas and onions for everyone.

The opening of a neighborhood dance studio.

Renee’s lentil soup for lunch.

New friends.

Leftovers for dinner.

YaYa: “Come here little gecko.  I’ll put a star sticker on you if you’re really good and you come to me!” (Assuming that the gecko is dying for a star sticker.)

The light here.

Her hands.

The other day, Leafy drew a picture of me in the sand while we were on the beach, and it looked like this:

I so badly wished I had a camera.

His picture was much better than my rendition, and it was drawn in sand with his finger, which was priceless.  He told me it was me looking up.

You know how there are the natural swings of motherhood; the days of clumsiness and grief, and the days of moment after perfect moment? Or, in actuality, they are much more connected than that…  Leafy draws a portrait of me that stuns me with its grace, and then he cries all the way home because there is sand on his belly. YaYa is so much a little girl that I catch myself staring at her, open-mouthed, because the very fact of her being a little girl makes me feel more free, but then she cries all the way home because I let Kid A take a turn pushing the stroller.

Sigh.

And then I see them bend together to lift the stroller over the loose sand, puzzling out a problem for themselves and finding a way, and I believe again that the shining moments are much more weighty than the others.

Update on the confusing am I or am I not a preschool issue: I think we have it cleared up now.  Chinua was pretty clear (stronger than me? less apologetic?) when the lady got back on the day she dropped her son off, that a) we are not babysitters, and b) she should call before she brings her son over, but they are welcome to come and play. Together.

I think it was a combination of a) a language barrier, b) the fact that many foreigners here *do* open up kindergartens for other international kids, c) the fact that I homeschool my kids, something that is not done in many countries and is very strange to some people, d) the fact that someone TOLD her that I had a school, and e) her own boundary issues.   But she is very sweet, and I’m glad we have it straight now.  It was just funny there for a minute, because on the phone, I’d be saying “I am not a babysitter.  I do not have a preschool.  I do not babysit other people’s kids.” and she’d say, “Maybe we can talk about it when I come to your school.” Oh dear.  Oh dear oh dear oh dear. At one point, I said to Chinua, “Maybe I should just open a preschool.”

This is the way my brain works, which is why it’s good for me to have people around who say, “Rae, you really don’t want to do that.”  And then I say, “Oh, you’re right.  I don’t.”

Here’s a conversation that I eavesdropped on:

Leafy: “What if I cut a bear in half?”

Kid A and YaYa in unison: “That would be really terrible, Leafy!”

Leafy: “But I would clean the knife!”

Kid A: “No, not terrible for the knife. (Laughter) Terrible for the bear!”

YaYa: “A bear is an animal, Leafy!”

Kid A: “Yeah, how would you feel if someone killed you!”

YaYa: “It would hurt the bear.”

Leafy: “It’s a bad bear.  If it tried to kill me I would cut it in half!”

YaYa: “A bear is a wild animal!  We can’t kill wild animals!”

Kid A: “If you kill a bear, then you should be killed.” (Overkill… heh heh)

Leafy: “MAMA! Kid A SAID…”  and then I stepped in.

*

A conversation I was a part of:

Leafy: “What’s for breakfast, oatmeal or mu-sell-li?”

Me: “I just woke up, I don’t know wait-and-see.”

Leafy: “What? (Laughter) “Who’s Andsee?”

Me: “Nooooo.  Wait. And. See.”

YaYa: “Yeah.  And Antsy is the lady who’s visiting Cate.”

Me: (Laughter) “No, YaYa, that’s Nancy.”

*

Chinua put together some beautiful calendars this year, and it’s not too late to get them before the New Year!

One is based on Color in India.

One is a year of India Faces.

And one is a beautiful abstract collection of photos of a carnival he happened upon, back in Canada.

*

And here is a photo of a very strange poster that I saw in Manali this summer.

In this photo that Chinua took a while back, I think that Leafy looks like nothing more than someone’s Greek uncle yelling, “Opa!”

The other day Kid A was asking me if there was a way to avoid paying money for electricity.”Ye-es,” I said. “If you have solar power or wind power or hydro power from your own equipment, you won’t have to pay money.”

Leafy looked up from turning somersaults on my bed. “Solar power,” he said, “is an orange ball of power that you hold in your hands and it makes you strong.”

We all just looked at him.

This is my Leafy Boy.  Spending his days in the wilderness of his imagination, surfacing only for cuddles and food and sometimes even not for those, since food can fuel any amount of pretending and cuddles can be between a mama dog and her puppy.

When he’s naughty I have to come very close to him.  “Leafy, look at me.”  He usually avoids it, looking wildly around or covering his face with his hands.  “Leafy, look at my eyes.”  When I can get him to really tune into me, then we can talk. He’s brilliant, telling stories and dancing almost from waking to sleeping.  He’s a flash of light, a comic imp, and he’s still sorting out what the difference is between truth and what he’s convinced himself is true.

He’s amazing.  I’m rather privileged to be around this little mind in the growing stages.  If nothing else, it’s just a lot of fun.

(But I think there will be big somethings in this kid’s life.)

There is so much love all around this place that sometimes we don’t even notice it.  From someone’s hand on my back to a little boy sitting next to me, telling me, “I’m sitting next to you, Mama!” just because he loves me.

I need to be paying more attention.

Just look at the love between Leafy and his Superstar Daddy.

(This is my post for Love Thursday.)

Leafy knows

that even really amazing

incredibly strong superheroes

have trouble keeping their capes out of the mud.

That’s why they need mamas.

When I woke up this morning, Leafy was attempting to glue pieces of paper together with my Burt’s Bees chapstick.

And on that note, he’d like to demonstrate the proper way to enjoy a cup of hot chocolate.

Leafy sincerely believes that a spoon is necessary for maximum hot chocolate enjoyment. Some people may find this method slow, but Leafy says, “Oh no, no no no.  It’s delicious.”

Beyond even recommending this hot chocolate, Leafy would like to endorse it.  And he’d like to do it wearing a muscle shirt with a tiger on it. (I didn’t buy it, it was a kick down.  But I think it’s cute.)

You really need to make sure that you get the hot chocolate all the way into your mouth.

Taste sensation!

Whew.  Time for the next sip.

(PS.  That time of year has come again, when one of our nearest and dearest bravely makes his way to a remote spot in Turkey.  I may not say so much directly about it, right now, but know that the fort is being held down by my sister and I, and that I am hoarding the chocolate so as not to go crazy before the middle of next month.  Send money.  I mean, chocolate. I mean, prayers for sanity.  Thanks.)