October runs in the family

photographs

these are my children.

they did not hatch out of the earth

or a marriage

or a marriage bed.

they are my children.

they were created in my body
in a loving and holy way
with this woman.

I would not have these children
without her.

She is their mother.
My companion in creation.
My partner in the
everyday everything
of their lives.

& her
absence
in these
photographs
shames
me.

Code

"I want to be a clown!"

This means "I want to take my markers and color all over my body."

(I should say that we are all sick and stuck in the house together--all of us. all weekend. Since Friday, even. and so my answer is most likely to be. . .)

"Uh. . . Um. . Okay. Whatever."

"I can color my arm?"

"sure."

"I can color my face?"

"no. not your face, please."

"I can color my belly?"

"sure."

"I can color my hands?"

"sure."

"I can color my bottom?"

"No."

"My feet?"

"Absolutely."

So we add "i want to be a clown" to "i want to be a puppy." which means she wants to wear shoes on her feet and shoes on her hands and walk around like a puppy. She usually wants to be a puppy as we are trying to leave the house. Sure, it's adorable. If you don't mind adding 30 minutes on your trip from the front door to the car door. But, yes. Adorable.

And the little man? Thumper has 4 teeth. Count 'em. 4. And he is using them. Just today we have developed this routine where he bites me, I pull him off my breast and glower at him. I plop him on the ground and frown. He begins to cry. I'm the one that was bit and he's crying? So we wait a minute and then try again. Right now he's having a bottle with Scully. Bite away.

Because Nabil is not Saudi Enough

So my Dad was finally allowed to check in to his flight. We were all at the counter for a good two hours while the woman behind the desk called Amsterdam and tried to call Saudi Arabia (but she couldn't get the phone to work.)

My Dad.

My Saudi Dad. With his expired Saudi passport, his expired Saudi driver's license, his Saudi identity card (with no expiration date), his expired U.S. green card, a letter of extension for his expired green card, his current U.S. driver's license. All this. Even his grandson (Thumper) was vouching for him.

Two hours.

The woman had told them he couldn't travel on his expired passport because his destination would not let him enter. "But I'm Saudi." he said. She blinked. "They cannot refuse me. I am a Saudi national." My Mom tried to clear the confusion up. "He is Saudi. He is from Saudi Arabia." Hmmm. . . Repetition did not seem to be helping.

"I can only renew my passport while I am in the country. I have to be there to renew it. It is not renewed because I am not there. I am here."

And so he was. For two hours. Here, in the DSM airport.

"They have to take me. They cannot refuse me--where would they send me? They have to let me in." It seems there is not a hot market on rejected Saudi nationals.

After two hours one of the airport managers let him check in. Hamdillah.

That was yesterday. He just called my Mom to say he made it safe and sound and is with our Uncle and his son Faisal. But, wait. . .I don't have a cousin Faisal.

Apparently my cousin Nabil changed his name to Faisal. "Nabil" was a foreign name.

Big, big sigh.

Sigh that cannot capture all of the fractured parts between us Sigh.

Small Wonder

Khubz started preschool yesterday. It was pretty clear she thought she had been dropped off in Disney Land. We had had an incredible weekend, with fabulous friends & family and a fabulous birthday party (she is three!) And ever since then she had been a hideous, horrid goop of a child. Horrid. I decided she'd had too much of "being special" as a birthday girl.

I was a bit worried dropping her off at daycare. Would they expel her? And what was the report? From Khubz: "Good." That's all. Like a teenager. Just "good." From the preschool teachers? "She is so sweet!" And I scrunched my eyes together trying to check them for sarcasm. No, really. Completely sweet.

In truth, she is doing great at preschool. I get dribbles of information like, "they've got hats! Fireman hat and a police officer hat and a princess hat." They talked about their families at circle time today. "How did it go?" No answer. "Did you tell them Lalo's name?" (we sent pictures.) No answer. "Did anyone say 'you can't have two mommies?' or 'haven't you read the bible?' or 'SODOMITE!' or anything like that??" Still no answer.

I'm sure if someone did she could take it. She practices all her wrestling moves on Thumper--she'd get them down.

Anyway, she seems to be having a great time. So I'm posting a couple pics from her fantastic birthday party. But don't tell her. I can't have the birthday monster back for a whole nother year.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.

when crawling is not enough

Its been a while friends.

Thumper is crawling. At his 6 mo checkup the doctor asked, "is he sitting up on his own yet?" No. We sit him up and he slumps over. And the next day he started sitting up. And getting in to a sitting position on his own. And then scooting to reach things. And then crawling.

He is more than crawling. He gets in a crawl position but puts his feet flat on the floor so he pushes up and shoots! forward!

It means when he crashes it sucks quite a bit. Last night I was worried he'd broken his nose by propelling himself flat into the floor on his face. Ouch.

But most of the time he chases his sister around. She loves this. He loves to head to the bathroom because it always results in a scoop up and return game.

He is just usually totally, totally joyous. And on the move. Unbelievably.

More WOW

45 minute shower.

(sorry earth--But if you add up all the days that I go unshowered or two-minute showered I think it'll even out.)

So WOW and DOUBLE WOW.

:* (kiss)

A clean, relaxed kiss for all but an extra-special, squeeky clean kiss for Scully.