Growing a Family

I’m very happy for some old neighbors/ex-colleagues/FB friends who adopted three children from the foster-care system today. We’ve known about the ongoing process, but they weren’t able to share pictures of the kids until the adoption was final (today!).

And I’m sad today, because it feels like I’ve waited all my life to adopt, and Big A is finally on board, but none of the agencies will follow up with us. I finally caved and did what I swore I wouldn’t do—called in for help from my CASA director. She’s called around and left messages; let’s see how far we go.

At least I get to take my oldest home for the weekend : )!

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The final word...

Big A's first appearance in the NYT (1975).  He is the final, hyphenated word in the obituary:

"Surviving are a daughter by a previous marriage, Louise Laskey, a sculptor; a grandson, and a great‐grandson."

I was looking for references to Louise for Nu since it's one of her middle names and she may have inherited some of that artistic talent when I found this (and was oddly overcome with love for a baby Big A).

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A (C)Hairy Moment

Scout and Huck went bonkers at dinner time. Instead of eating slivers of salmon at the table (they love 'Mr. Slammin'!) they were howling and baying at something in the kitchen. The humans at the table were impressed by the puppies' noble inattention to dinner in the face of a threat to the family pack. What was it? A mouse? Our resident snake?

Nope. It was the chair we'd recently introduced to the kitchen. 

It was as bad as Clint Eastwood's chair moment.

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The Prodigal Couple

It was good meeting so many old friends this week. We spent an evening with LV and NF and their families; had lunch with NM and his family today; and went to the M's NYE party where we saw EVERYONE.

Walking back from Stafford St. in the feathery snow and single-digit cold, Big A said that it's kind of fun, because people are so excited to see us even if we weren't that special when we actually lived here. It's true :) .

We got back 11-ish, so we could hang out with the kids and grandparents until midnight and chanted the countdown into 2018. I so want this year to be better than the last couple of years.

And I should take better pictures.

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Dinner

@The Winds

They're showing N's beauteous Persia collection on the walls.

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2017 Christmas #3

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A Christmas Story (Christmas Continued)

There were grandparents to greet and more presents to open yesterday, and tomorrow we'll head for Yellow Springs for more grandparents (and presents).

For the first time in a while, the kids enjoyed both the nativity pageant and the Christmas Eve candlelight service, but their favorite Christmas story was about my silliness.

Earlier this month, Big A and I found ourselves at the mall (to return some birthday dress shirts at Macy's) and I saw a popup store selling Christmas ornaments that claimed that they could "put ANY name" on purchased ornaments. I was so excited, because of course my kids never find their names on anything. So I babbled on to the very young, very pregnant sales assistant about how this was so exciting for me and then cajoled Big A into looking for ornaments. He gave up about five minutes in because everything was weird and gendered (boy-doctors, girl-nurses level gendered). I should have given up too, but nevertheless, I persisted.

I finally found some generic, non gendered stuff and took it to the counter to pay for it. Four ornaments came up to $60 with tax. And then the very young, very pregnant sales assistant took out a Sharpie to write my kids' names. A Sharpie. I didn't have the heart to back out. At least she had neat handwriting?

We took down Christmas today, 

in preparation for our trip South.

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Christmas in the afternoon

We didn't get to opening presents until the afternoon

because Big A had worked the night before and needed a nap.

I held the kids at bay with the holiday casserole and mulled cider

and re-watching the second season of Stranger Things.

It turned out beautifully in the end 

(despite sleep deprived crankiness, roof worries, and health anxieties)

At gave me a Criterion copy of Chaplin's The Kid 

the first silent film we'd watched together--crazy to think it's almost a hundred years old

Nu gave me another book Molly's Story to go along with Wonder

Molly is a pupster and  has the sweetest beginning

Big A made my dreams come true

with the Alessi kettle I'd coveted for so long.

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'Yas

Not a day goes by that I don't think of cousin PD and the other 'Yas. It could be because something reminded me to think of our house as a home rather than as a real-estate investment; or I bought myself flowers when no one else did; or I'm driving in the snow and remembering her telling me about black ice, and to go slow on NJ hills; or because I got a mouthful of something spicy that reminded me of the rasam-buvva that she hand-fed me when I was too pregnant/nauseated to feed myself; or I'm yearning for times while we watched the kids play and could conduct sotto voce discussions of family, nation, or culture for hours.

When she texted me that she was going to be close by visiting her elementary schoolmates for the weekend to celebrate turning 50 in a few months, AND that she could spend a night with us... I squealed and then called her so she could hear me.

It was everything I imagined.

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Time to go

Last night, I dreamt that I was looking over grandmother's old house by the sea. I was talking to my aunt and Big A about how it would make sense to get it (buy it?). I think we had decided to go for it until I remembered that the water from the faucets used to stain everything grey and wondered if that still happened and were there loud trains in the backyard?

The night before that, I dreamt of huge temple festival crowds. And among them, I found my mother with her friends. They were in full temple-going mode--vibrant silk saris and gem-studded jewelry and... were taking turns standing on a grate. Mom was so embarrassed to see me, but managed to hug me tight and whisper that I shouldn't tell anyone.

Both dreams were dotted with apocalyptic climate change motifs--rising seas, shimmering heat, crop failures--I blame the eco-criticism-ecofeminism class.

Is This Land is Your Land? 

Environment and Culture in the Anthropocene 

ENG 180/WGS 280

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Thankful we need to improvise seating...

When I retire I want to go on trips with my sister (like my mom)

Rameswaram and Kanyakumari

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Royal Blood

Story 1

After the parade with the other homecoming "court" families, I took the rained-on grandparents and younger sibs home to dry off, while Big A went to his night shift. So... At was all by himself when he was "coronated" as homecoming king. The video his teacher posted of the "coronation" makes me sad--At's standing all alone while all the other kids have at least one family member there. 

Story 2

I've been getting out of puppy poop-picking up and other gross family chores by jokingly claiming that I have royal blood via the padma vellama Dorakanti heritage. I don't believe in all that B.S., obviously, and I was merely being facetious. But I didn't realize how seriously the youngest human in the family was taking it until the day A asked Nu to do her "peasant" chores and she rounded on him savagely and lashed out: "Yeah, Dad! I get it from *you*." This happened at least a year ago, but we're still laughing every time we quote it.

And that's it. Two stories connected tenuously by the theme of royal blood/me being awful.

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First Rule of Cousins' Club

It's always time to jump on beds.

(Cambridge, MA)

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Trans-Local

Dad's big birthday today

We're just too far away.

But we get

an archana and a pattu

veshti for Ganesha.

And for ourselves,

lunch (with Mimosas).

Now we''re celebrating

(Even though

the birthday boy is teetotal.)

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Twice as Nice

The "Railway Clock" 

my parents gave us is finally up.

(Now we can panic about school drop off

coming down AND going up the hallway…)

Midday/Half a World Away

These names are written under my skin

Their faces are painted on every mirror.

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Unexpectedly...

 The family portrait my mom so desired

turns out a bit Jindalesque?

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A Third Coast

On the brine of memory
the ink of veins marks spots

It is a storm of forgetting;
at each sob, she jettisons

Parents as they were, embraces
in sorrow how they now are

sweeps it all into feeling
grabbing and flailing even so

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Nostalgia and Kindness

It's true that every time I hear this song, it brings a lump to my throat.


Nu says, "That's like you, Mama. You left your mom and Dad too."

At silently thumps me on my shoulder. (Somewhat smirkily, the way he seems to do everything these days, but still kindly.)

Broods: Mother and Father

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