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Saturday
Mar072009
Nine: Banilla is my FAVORITE
March 7, 2009
Grace!
1. This photo (which a friend of mine recently uploaded to Facebook) of Kid A and Baby YaYa, sitting in their highchairs, eating salad at the Land. This was right after we moved there. A part of me feels so sad, looking at them. Because those people are gone, and in their place are the wiry brown children that we now know, the ones who read, the ones who say things like, "I would like a scooter with only two wheels because it would be a lot more challenging for me. (Challenging means harder, that's why I say more challenging.)"
I know that somewhere deep within them, though, the chubby cheeks remain. And we wouldn't want them to have to eat in highchairs for the rest of their lives, would we? (Yes we would!) No, we wouldn't.
2. There is always Solo, the cheeks and thighs of whom none have ever equaled.
3. Yesterday I booked train tickets for the beginning of April. There are still kinks to work out with our trip, (there are ALWAYS kinks. And high jinks.) but we are getting there. We will keep this house for when we come back to Goa, in September or October.
4. Today I opted for not walking through the deep sand with the stroller, and decided (instead of going to the beach) to wander over to the house where Aunty Becca and Cat are living, through the village, with the kids. They weren't at their house. (Where were they? And why didn't I have a prior consultation before they left?) So their house owner invited me over to her place, a little stone Goan style house with a tiled roof and a cow dung floor. She fetched us all Maaza, and we sat and talked for a while.
Her mother-in-law, a wizened woman with the huge black framed glasses so ubiquitous with elderly people here, kept indicating that I should give Solo some Maaza too. I probably shouldn't give any of my kids Maaza, since it is a "mango flavored drink" containing "some fruit" (we all know what that means, and it begins with an "S" and ends with a "ugar") but especially not Solo. Then she started joking in the way that I've noticed is common here, when you have a baby and older kids.
"I'll keep your baba, you won't have him anymore." The answer from my kids is always a vehement shaking of the head, not quite a contradiction in a rude way, but firm enough. Apparently they're fond of him.
It was nice to sit and visit.
5. And then we had ice cream cones, (packaged ones) and we sat on the steps in front of the shop to eat them. Leafy was ice cream face monster, Kid A scarfed his back with incredible speed, and YaYa made hers last for two hours. Solo didn't get any ice cream, either. Just typical, you know? A good Saturday.
1. This photo (which a friend of mine recently uploaded to Facebook) of Kid A and Baby YaYa, sitting in their highchairs, eating salad at the Land. This was right after we moved there. A part of me feels so sad, looking at them. Because those people are gone, and in their place are the wiry brown children that we now know, the ones who read, the ones who say things like, "I would like a scooter with only two wheels because it would be a lot more challenging for me. (Challenging means harder, that's why I say more challenging.)"
I know that somewhere deep within them, though, the chubby cheeks remain. And we wouldn't want them to have to eat in highchairs for the rest of their lives, would we? (Yes we would!) No, we wouldn't.
2. There is always Solo, the cheeks and thighs of whom none have ever equaled.
3. Yesterday I booked train tickets for the beginning of April. There are still kinks to work out with our trip, (there are ALWAYS kinks. And high jinks.) but we are getting there. We will keep this house for when we come back to Goa, in September or October.
4. Today I opted for not walking through the deep sand with the stroller, and decided (instead of going to the beach) to wander over to the house where Aunty Becca and Cat are living, through the village, with the kids. They weren't at their house. (Where were they? And why didn't I have a prior consultation before they left?) So their house owner invited me over to her place, a little stone Goan style house with a tiled roof and a cow dung floor. She fetched us all Maaza, and we sat and talked for a while.
Her mother-in-law, a wizened woman with the huge black framed glasses so ubiquitous with elderly people here, kept indicating that I should give Solo some Maaza too. I probably shouldn't give any of my kids Maaza, since it is a "mango flavored drink" containing "some fruit" (we all know what that means, and it begins with an "S" and ends with a "ugar") but especially not Solo. Then she started joking in the way that I've noticed is common here, when you have a baby and older kids.
"I'll keep your baba, you won't have him anymore." The answer from my kids is always a vehement shaking of the head, not quite a contradiction in a rude way, but firm enough. Apparently they're fond of him.
It was nice to sit and visit.
5. And then we had ice cream cones, (packaged ones) and we sat on the steps in front of the shop to eat them. Leafy was ice cream face monster, Kid A scarfed his back with incredible speed, and YaYa made hers last for two hours. Solo didn't get any ice cream, either. Just typical, you know? A good Saturday.
Reader Comments (11)
I know what you mean about keeping your children "kids" forever.....it would be nice if they did not have to leave home, etc., etc. Seriously though, that's not the way it's intended to be.
I can barely remember them being that young. But there they were all sitting in high chairs, Jed for awhile, Kai and Kenya. Fun times!
I was just talking to Erik about how it's so hard to remember, to really remember, Peregrine and Poppy when they were Raphael's age. And, how hard it is to even remember what he was like a few months ago. Parenting requires us to live so much in the moment, that sometimes it feels like the moment is all we have. For as much as I've tried to savor the moments and imprint the feelings on my heart like a photo, they've slipped away. Oh, my babies, where have you gone? No, I wouldn't want them to stay babies forever, but maybe a little longer than they do. The big ones, though, are so fun too. It's so fun to watch them becoming who they are. I look at Raphael and still, even though he's nearly a year, ask him "who are you?" (Can you believe it's been nearly a year since you sat at my kitchen table while I traipsed back and forth to the bathroom wondering if indeed my water had broken?)
We're talking about a little trip to India in the fall. For real. Be still my heart!
Okay, I will stop writing. Love, much love, to you all.
You've mentioned train tickets a couple of times, but haven't said where you are going. Are you going to be gone until fall?
oh, how timely this post. owen got his first haircut yesterday, i am all for the long and natural but the boy could not see. and i left the little place with a boy in tow. someone took my baby and gave me a person growing. the boys will be two in a heartbeat and sometimes it feels like they were never infants. then i glance back at the photos and know they were, they just are not anymore.
today was the first time i ever longed to hold their baby ness once more. to hold and not always be held. oh, our babies, always here and always changing. i love your graceful things and wish you were closer so i could have some tea with you.
hugs, a
Life is not meant to be a mad race,
No prize given for setting the pace.
Enjoying the sweet
Makes life more complete,
Like Leafy's ice cream monster face.
:-)
I just discovered that your commentbox automatically generates a yellow smiley-face when the commenter types a colon, dash and bracket!
What a surprise!
:-)
Couldn't resist double-checking that it's not my imagination.
Sorry about hijacking your commentbox in this way, but I simply cannot help myself...must find out if the box will generate a winking smiling face if I replace the colon with a semi-colon...
;-)
This post makes me sad on some level. My "baby" will be seventeen years old in a few days. I'm missing "mommy-hood" (mommy-ness?) more and more every day. I'm so proud of the young lady she has grown up to be, but I also wish I could put her back in the high chair and watch her dig through the salad greens to find the broccoli (her favorite) in the bottom of the bowl.
Maaza! Oh, how I miss Maaza!