"boys' mom" note

So apparently it's National Daughters' Day, and my FB feed is full of lovely people posting about their lovely daughters and I'm loving it esp. as I no longer have daughters this year. (The kids have made Huckleberry an "honorary bro" so I now have four boy-kids.)

Nu has had a cold for a couple of days and spiked a fever last night, so we headed for the drive-through Covid-test this morning. They couldn't find Nu's health records and I was quietly panicking because I thought it was because I'd decided to leave the sex column blank, but it turned out that my tired brain had given them the wrong year of birth (I gave them At's!!). I can't wait to see the AMA's recommendation that sex be removed from birth certificates universally accepted.

hold on

I have a ton of stuff beginning to pile up again. I got contracts done, but have final edits to make for the next issue of Jaggery; I got the sponsored panel done, but have mentor-mentee letters to send out for the ongoing NWSA; I got the updates done, but owe my CASA coordinator a log of my continuing education hours; and on and on. 

And this is not even at my day job where I have class prep due + I'm going to get a ton of papers submitted this weekend + I somehow seem to have agreed to give a campus wide introduction to embodied learning practices (not even my research specialty) + have to plan an orientation for the student house I advise + plan an induction for the honor society I co-advise + return to my long-term projects I haven't worked on in ages. 

And this doesn't even begin to start to describe all the work of family and home.

So I'm experiencing stress... and rightly so. 

And I got a submission declined rejected today too.

But Scout and Huck are always adorable.

worry

"I'm sorry," said the stove repairman who's been fixing our stove since June--"nothing's going right, is it? I hope your day gets better."

I guess he heard Big A and me have a furious, whispered conversation about Scout and/or heard me sobbing in the stairwell.

Anyway, I spent hours at the veterinary E.R. with Scout today. Tons of tests later, we still have no clear answers. But they gave us a bunch of meds; I hope they help.

Pic: Sculpture outside the E.R. (I forgot to take a pic of Scoutie.) 

"the next time you want me"

Phoebe Bridgers singing for me as I soak and relive some recent conversations about... of all things... Pet Sematary. (You know, the Stephen-King-novel/movie where beings buried in the "Pet Sematary" come back to life but are disappointing and different and zombiefied.)

First I had a general epiphany about how nostalgia-fueled decisions to go back to the way things were rarely go well. "Going back" to places, people, whatever... never goes as planned. Perhaps that's the true moral of Pet Sematary. It came up in some conversation with Big A. And then suddenly because we'd talked about Scout's health, he was trying to get me to promise that I would never clone Scout. An option I'd never considered before but seemed tempting. But Big A rightly made the point that Scout is his own person and cloning disrespects that etc. OK? OK.

I was telling the kids this over breakfast some day this week, and I don't know if they appreciated their parents' deep thoughts. But they immediately started a tally of who in the family would put people in the pet sematary. Apparently neither human kid would. According to them, I totally would. And their dad--well... apparently he has a strong sense of medical ethics and wouldn't. But... he'd still probably put me in the pet sematary because he's so attached. And then, they riffed, when pet-semataried mom starts stabbing people and stuff, he'd be all patient explaining things like "Puppy, remember we talked about not stabbing people?" 

For a conversation that included so many deaths, including my own, that last line in its authenticity still makes me chuckle out loud.

chatter

the length of our conversation tells in years 
origins of jokes, quarrels, and empathy

reflecting back, blinking back

the image of us making our way into a future

it's a test--and if you ask me, of course 

I'll tell--I'll tell you everything

-------------------------------------------

A day remarkable for the amount of work and the number of things I got off the pending to-do lists. 

It was also the day of our Ganesha Search. I had to work on Ganesh Chaturthi, which was last week, so today the kids and I did the annual tour of all the Ganeshas in the house (several in each room) to clean and decorate with kumkum and kalanchoe. The kalanchoe isn't traditional, but fit some of the tiny Ganeshas perfectly. 

Also a day when we had some tough conversations with two different roofers--none of our work-arounds will actually... work and it's going to cost many times what we'd anticipated or saved for. UGH.  

And then a spectacular late-afternoon breakdown when Big A used the "D word" and the "C word" to describe and discuss Scout's sudden hobbling slowness and lethargy. The kids asked tentatively over dinner what it had been about and were naturally very dispirited... so Big A began clowning. 

Pic: Radiology Gardens from this weekend. I love their reflection pool.

I've framed summer

 

I spy

 

sibling rivalry

birthdays and first days

It's my grandmother's birthday today, so this picture of her just before she got married at 16 has been doing the rounds on cousins' chat. As has something I wrote long ago.

First day of classes today... I panicked hard yesterday, despite having taught in person all of last year. But the usual combination of over prepping and the endorphin-adrenalin rush of being in front of a class kicked in and all was well. Finished up work with a small reception at the president's house for being on a search committee that met all summer long.

When I got home, Big A was napping ahead of a work-night, At was off canvassing, Nu was in the basement knuckle-deep in a paint project for a class. So I grabbed my Culver's dinner from L's fundraiser for Peacequest, queued up some Felicity on ye olde laptop, and ate with Scout and Huck for company. 

A bit of an anticlimactic end to the day, TBH. 

the opposite of down is really long

remind me to take a step back
take in the silver habit 
of a grey day

pacing love and dissent, weaving
every day the excitement 

of reunion  

days we laughed, we sometimes

wept--from stories we heard

around radios

life feels so small it's basically 

one tunnel--just one that 

runs forever

Pic and notes: Early morning walk with Big A, Huck, and Scout. Grey day--busy all the way through and no good news at home (roofer canceled, Covid rises) or abroad. We were almost devoured by mosquitoes. 

everyone is celebrated

 

It's the 23rd and Big A's Boss Day. 

As a bonus, we're also celebrating Scout and Huck's Boss Day today (theirs is on the 18th but the rest of us were traveling this month). 

But wait there's more! It's also back to school celebration time for At and Nu (actually just Nu, but it felt weird not to celebrate At too).  

I guess I like celebrating this little family of mine.

<< I made Nu and At little gift bags with some school essentials, fun reading, and a fresh plant to care for.

american euphoric

 

I got a good picture of S and J with all the grandkids for the family holiday card. I wish I had gotten the childhood portrait of Big A just behind At's shoulder... but Scout's butt wouldn't fit.  

*

Obviously, I titled this post as a riff on Wood's American Gothic, but my capability for normalcy and jokes about American-ness is dimmed by the horrific news from Afghanistan and diminished in the emotionally exhausting aftermath of having just finished Ayad Akhtar's Homeland Elegies.

a solidly socialist... snuggle

 

Scout + At + Paulo Freire.

walking the walk

I've been walking with the kids fairly regularly--pictured here are three of four. 

The human kids frequently "take turns" walking with me. Not in an eager way--but more like one is busy today so could the other step in, etc. 

For some reason, it sort of makes me happy because it makes me imagine that when I'm elderly and need their care they'll negotiate a mutually compassionate and equitable way to make that work too.

The puppy kids are, naturally, happy to walk any time.

buddies

 

Spotlight on Huckleberry Amulya

(a.k.a Toyface and "mallalam" expert)

three in a row

Scout, Huck, and I hosted bookclub while Big A, At, and Nu did their own thing. I'd planned to have a garden party, but rain was in the forecast and mosquitoes were out in force, so I moved it indoors. And just like that we had our first indoors party since the pandemic started.

Here, Huck, Scout, and I (L to R) are spooning in blissed-out collapse after dinner.

[Pic by Nu, reflected in the glass door.]

the wild taxonomies of family chat

"Baby deer," read Big A's title of his portrait of Hucky on the picnic table faking a height advantage. 

Not to be outdone, Nu (a.k.a The Chicken Daddy) titled a group picture of their growing chickies--"dogs."

Where's Mama?: A Story in Three Parts

 

starting summer

No working stove yet, but I'm getting quite good at making do with L's electric skillet... I might even be thinking of getting one. Luckily, picnic-style food works great right now.

Finally got the kids' to share their summer fun lists. After weeks of begging 🤨. Maybe that's more of a "me" thing?

Lots of other little traditions are making their way into our lives. At, for instance, will share a reading and then schedule a long walk to talk about it. This happened quite organically, and I LOVE it. Right now he has me reading Shawn Wallace's The Designated Mourner. 

newcomer

 

our day is burning,
silence like smoke

light seems machine
in interim and enters

anyway, opens the door
to our histories of hope

in arrival--we are blessed
death is certain someday 

we get to live out survival
tithing... tiny happinesses 

sorry...

I have to go. Someone loves me very, very, very much, and I need to go pay them attention.

(Oh. Also: In a post-pandemic first, Big A and I rode our goofy tandem bike downtown and got a pitcher of margaritas at a new--to us, anyway--restaurant.)