Do words even matter when there's photographic evidence of his joy? All he needed this particular night was footie pajamas with elephants on them and a mop cloth for his head. All was right with the world, all was good for Kev.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Simple Needs
Do words even matter when there's photographic evidence of his joy? All he needed this particular night was footie pajamas with elephants on them and a mop cloth for his head. All was right with the world, all was good for Kev.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Courage
Dear Amiya,
You had a very hard day at school on Monday. Your teacher was frustrated with you because you were disorganized. And you were, in fact, disorganized. This is a problem for you and something you need to work harder to fix.
In her frustration, your teacher said something to you that was unkind and hurtful - moreso in tone than in words. You didn't make it from the classroom to the car without crying. You were very upset. You kept saying how you had never gotten in trouble, how you have never caused problems and you couldn't understand why she yelled at you.
You came home, dried up and told me what happened. The details won't be important by the time you read this. You were disorganized, your teacher unthoughtful. The responsibility lies with both of you.
You wanted me to write a note to the teacher and say the consequence was unfair. I wouldn't. I agree that there should be a consequence for perpetual disorganization. The consequence stands.
You wanted me to write a note and tell the teacher that your feelings were hurt. I told you that I wouldn't. That sometimes feelings can get even more hurt when we write important things down, instead of talking about them face to face.
You wanted me to tell your teacher how she had hurt your feelings. I wouldn't do that either. But I told you I would practice with you so that you would feel confident enough to stand up for yourself.
And so we did. We practiced a lot. We took out all the extra details. We boiled it down to, "Mrs. Xxxxx, when you yelled, "Completely and honestly, I just don't care" at me yesterday, my feelings were very hurt."
When you woke up the next morning, I was sure you were going to say we should drop the whole thing. I thought you would be nervous or scared, but you weren't. And that's when I knew how important this was for you.
So we went in and we waited. And we waited and waited. She was late. But when she finally made it in, we stood with her in a corner. She looked at me, expecting me to talk. I looked at you to make it clear that you were the important person in the conversation at that moment.
You looked your teacher in the eye, way up where she was because she wouldn't bend down to talk on your level. And you said what you felt and you stood your ground in a respectful and appropriate manner. We talked about how all the grown-ups understand the organization issue and that we thought the consequence was appropriate. We also talked about how quickly words and tone can hurt someone and how we have to use them carefully.
You won't read this for many, many years. But someday you will. I want you to know two things:
1. We would have talked to the teacher for you had you not had the courage. Daddy and I want you to stand up for yourself, but we will always, always have your back if you can't.
2. You are strong. It isn't easy to tell someone when they've hurt your feelings or to stand up to someone in a position of power. Lots of grown-ups have trouble doing this and you're learning how to do this while so young. We hope you always have the confidence to stand up for yourself or another, in a respectful way. More of us should have that same skill.
You learned a lot from this experience. And it isn't only to make sure your papers are in the right spots. It's so good to be your parent, Amiya - we're learning just as much as you.
Love,
Mommy and Daddy
You had a very hard day at school on Monday. Your teacher was frustrated with you because you were disorganized. And you were, in fact, disorganized. This is a problem for you and something you need to work harder to fix.
In her frustration, your teacher said something to you that was unkind and hurtful - moreso in tone than in words. You didn't make it from the classroom to the car without crying. You were very upset. You kept saying how you had never gotten in trouble, how you have never caused problems and you couldn't understand why she yelled at you.
You came home, dried up and told me what happened. The details won't be important by the time you read this. You were disorganized, your teacher unthoughtful. The responsibility lies with both of you.
You wanted me to write a note to the teacher and say the consequence was unfair. I wouldn't. I agree that there should be a consequence for perpetual disorganization. The consequence stands.
You wanted me to write a note and tell the teacher that your feelings were hurt. I told you that I wouldn't. That sometimes feelings can get even more hurt when we write important things down, instead of talking about them face to face.
You wanted me to tell your teacher how she had hurt your feelings. I wouldn't do that either. But I told you I would practice with you so that you would feel confident enough to stand up for yourself.
And so we did. We practiced a lot. We took out all the extra details. We boiled it down to, "Mrs. Xxxxx, when you yelled, "Completely and honestly, I just don't care" at me yesterday, my feelings were very hurt."
When you woke up the next morning, I was sure you were going to say we should drop the whole thing. I thought you would be nervous or scared, but you weren't. And that's when I knew how important this was for you.
So we went in and we waited. And we waited and waited. She was late. But when she finally made it in, we stood with her in a corner. She looked at me, expecting me to talk. I looked at you to make it clear that you were the important person in the conversation at that moment.
You looked your teacher in the eye, way up where she was because she wouldn't bend down to talk on your level. And you said what you felt and you stood your ground in a respectful and appropriate manner. We talked about how all the grown-ups understand the organization issue and that we thought the consequence was appropriate. We also talked about how quickly words and tone can hurt someone and how we have to use them carefully.
You won't read this for many, many years. But someday you will. I want you to know two things:
1. We would have talked to the teacher for you had you not had the courage. Daddy and I want you to stand up for yourself, but we will always, always have your back if you can't.
2. You are strong. It isn't easy to tell someone when they've hurt your feelings or to stand up to someone in a position of power. Lots of grown-ups have trouble doing this and you're learning how to do this while so young. We hope you always have the confidence to stand up for yourself or another, in a respectful way. More of us should have that same skill.
You learned a lot from this experience. And it isn't only to make sure your papers are in the right spots. It's so good to be your parent, Amiya - we're learning just as much as you.
Love,
Mommy and Daddy
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Conflict and Resolution
Conflict:
So a little schmuck in Amiya's class told her that Santa is really just parents and she shouldn't believe in Santa anymore. Amiya told me about this one morning over winter break while we were elbow-deep in flour and spices in the kitchen. (Note to self - bake more with children - they share all kinds of details while mixing and kneading.)
I was flummoxed, verklempt, distraught. She is only 6! It is not time for this, not at all! Her specific question went something like, "Mom, I want to know. Is Santa real?"
I summoned all of my semantic skills, my oratorical prowess, my depth of language (all of which don't amount to much) and came back with something like, "Amiya, Santa is as real as you want him to be."
To which she responded, "But Mom, you're avoiding my question." Damn, she's good. "Is Santa real or is it you and Daddy?"
I retorted, "Mommy and Daddy help Santa."
"But is Santa real?"
I gave up. "Amiya, I am not going to answer that question with a yes or a no. Santa is more than just one person - anyone who believes in giving presents and making people happy is part of Team Santa. So, in a way, yes Mommy and Daddy are part of Santa, but we are not all of Santa."
She seemed either placated or intrigued and the subject was dropped. On her part. But not on ours, we, card-carrying members of Team Santa, had to get to work.
Marlene, a good friend, suggested the movie Elf. Score! She thought it was funny and gross (one in the same when you're 6?), but it got her thinking.
We read books. We talked about believing in something that you can't always see. We visited Santa at the zoo where she buttered Santa up by asking how he was doing and what he was hoping for under the tree.
Up until this point it was touch and go. She wasn't saying much and we weren't directing her either way. If she chose to not believe at this point, ok, we'll roll with that. But since she seemed to want to still believe, we followed her lead.
Resolution:
On Christmas Eve morning, Amiya and Vinay went for a bike ride - just the two of them. They dropped cookies at a friend's house and then rode to Panera for a Daddy/Daughter hot cocoa break. Upon returning home, Amiya was absolutely thrilled and said it was the best morning ever. Weekends are usually the four of us - so special one on one time is just that - special.
The cogs in my brain started working and I told Vinay that he absolutely positively had to go get a new bike for Amiya. Our plan was to get her a bike for her birthday (she'd outgrown her other bike), but maybe if Santa brought her the bike we could move her closer to the still believing category. So, off he went, scouring local stores for the right-sized bike.
In our family, we have a rule about gifts - the kids get three from Mommy and Daddy and three from Santa. We say one for the mind, one for the body, one for the heart. And Santa knows our rule and follows it, too.
Amiya opened her gifts on Christmas morning - she got an outfit for her body, a book for her mind and a horse toy for her heart. And then, amazing but true, she opened the door to the lanai to see a brand new bike, complete with a bell that Santa had taken off of his sleigh to remind her that Santa is about giving. Santa had broken our rule of 3 - it was that element that stood her firmly in the "I believe" category. No one, not even Grandma, breaks the rule of 3. All day long we heard, "I can't believe Santa...." "Santa brought me a bike!" Santa this, Santa that. And so now, Amiya is back where a six year old should be. Believing in magic, and giving, and love.
And someday she might be mad at me, but I'll take that. In the meantime, I'm just happy to have a little kid who believes in something much bigger than herself.
So a little schmuck in Amiya's class told her that Santa is really just parents and she shouldn't believe in Santa anymore. Amiya told me about this one morning over winter break while we were elbow-deep in flour and spices in the kitchen. (Note to self - bake more with children - they share all kinds of details while mixing and kneading.)
I was flummoxed, verklempt, distraught. She is only 6! It is not time for this, not at all! Her specific question went something like, "Mom, I want to know. Is Santa real?"
I summoned all of my semantic skills, my oratorical prowess, my depth of language (all of which don't amount to much) and came back with something like, "Amiya, Santa is as real as you want him to be."
To which she responded, "But Mom, you're avoiding my question." Damn, she's good. "Is Santa real or is it you and Daddy?"
I retorted, "Mommy and Daddy help Santa."
"But is Santa real?"
I gave up. "Amiya, I am not going to answer that question with a yes or a no. Santa is more than just one person - anyone who believes in giving presents and making people happy is part of Team Santa. So, in a way, yes Mommy and Daddy are part of Santa, but we are not all of Santa."
She seemed either placated or intrigued and the subject was dropped. On her part. But not on ours, we, card-carrying members of Team Santa, had to get to work.
Marlene, a good friend, suggested the movie Elf. Score! She thought it was funny and gross (one in the same when you're 6?), but it got her thinking.
We read books. We talked about believing in something that you can't always see. We visited Santa at the zoo where she buttered Santa up by asking how he was doing and what he was hoping for under the tree.
Up until this point it was touch and go. She wasn't saying much and we weren't directing her either way. If she chose to not believe at this point, ok, we'll roll with that. But since she seemed to want to still believe, we followed her lead.Resolution:
On Christmas Eve morning, Amiya and Vinay went for a bike ride - just the two of them. They dropped cookies at a friend's house and then rode to Panera for a Daddy/Daughter hot cocoa break. Upon returning home, Amiya was absolutely thrilled and said it was the best morning ever. Weekends are usually the four of us - so special one on one time is just that - special.
The cogs in my brain started working and I told Vinay that he absolutely positively had to go get a new bike for Amiya. Our plan was to get her a bike for her birthday (she'd outgrown her other bike), but maybe if Santa brought her the bike we could move her closer to the still believing category. So, off he went, scouring local stores for the right-sized bike.
In our family, we have a rule about gifts - the kids get three from Mommy and Daddy and three from Santa. We say one for the mind, one for the body, one for the heart. And Santa knows our rule and follows it, too.
Amiya opened her gifts on Christmas morning - she got an outfit for her body, a book for her mind and a horse toy for her heart. And then, amazing but true, she opened the door to the lanai to see a brand new bike, complete with a bell that Santa had taken off of his sleigh to remind her that Santa is about giving. Santa had broken our rule of 3 - it was that element that stood her firmly in the "I believe" category. No one, not even Grandma, breaks the rule of 3. All day long we heard, "I can't believe Santa...." "Santa brought me a bike!" Santa this, Santa that. And so now, Amiya is back where a six year old should be. Believing in magic, and giving, and love.
And someday she might be mad at me, but I'll take that. In the meantime, I'm just happy to have a little kid who believes in something much bigger than herself.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The Truth About Being Married for 9+ Years
Our anniversary came and went in December. Nine years. Can you believe it? I can't - time has flown by. We skipped right past the seven year itch rumor and we're just shy of a decade of wedded bliss. And in that entire, almost-decade long state of marital happiness, Vinay has never once chastised me or told me that I have been derelict in my marital duties.
Until today.
My Mom has been on my case, didn't get to me. A good friend has been on my case, didn't get to me. My Daughter (as an agent of my Mother) has been on my case, didn't get to me. My sister-in-law has been on my case (although just once), didn't get to me.
But when Vinay told me today that I really need to get back to the blog, well. I had to sit up and take notice.
So here I am.
You asked for it!
In no particular order, pictures to get you up to speed.
Kev went to a birthday party where he got a balloon hat shaped like - surprise, surprise! - an elephant. And wow, was he excited. And then wow, was he devastated when it shrunk!
He's learning to write his name. Love it!
And to draw people (before conception which I find especially advanced for a 3 year old).
Here's my little man with a picture of me! I always thought my face had good lines.
Kev and Uncle Mikey on one of his visits. Please note the book title - Love is a Handful of Honey. That's right. Uncle Mikey, ex-Marine, was reading Love is a Handful of Honey.
Amiya (front row, candy-cane socks) and her class doing their holiday performance. They sang "The Everlasting Fruitcake" and it was (completely true, despite being completely biased) the best song of the whole show. She was very cute and very happy to be up there. The girl's got charisma.
Amiya worked hard on gifts for her teachers this year - she chose to make them each a little loaf of apple spice bread and for the first time ever she can really take credit for all the cooking. She did a great job and got rave reviews!
We went caroling for canned goods again this year - above is the original crew, minus a few who were out with a stomach thing.
Amiya, singing at her favorite teacher's house.
Can you see Kev? Second from the left, red sweater, brown shoes? He loved caroling and I still catch him singing jingle bells.
The haul - over 300 canned goods and $150 dollars - all to our school's food pantry. Next year, we're on again - but this time the Dads have to join us!
Amiya and Grandma. Two peas in a pod. Really. Which brings me to this next picture.
Every Christmas, Amiya, Mom and I get all dressed up and head out for a girls only tea. After dining, we head to the fabulous Tampa Theater for a sing-along showing of White Christmas. Amiya knows every. single. word. of every. single. song. and she sings them all year long. There's one song that is especially popular - "Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters." Skip back a picture. See those two goofballs? Anytime they have something going, they sing, "Sisters, sisters, yada, yada, yada, yada, yada." I can't deny how cute it is.
Amiya wanted an American Girl doll for Christmas, but I talked her out of that - the chicky doesn't ever play with dolls. Instead, she focused on a much more reasonably priced Madame Alexander doll. Amiya's face absolutely lit up on Christmas Eve when she opened her doll up. And then. Oh, and then. When she found the gift from Grandma with a matching dress for both Priya (her doll) and herself. So, so sweet.
Until today.
My Mom has been on my case, didn't get to me. A good friend has been on my case, didn't get to me. My Daughter (as an agent of my Mother) has been on my case, didn't get to me. My sister-in-law has been on my case (although just once), didn't get to me.
But when Vinay told me today that I really need to get back to the blog, well. I had to sit up and take notice.
So here I am.
You asked for it!
In no particular order, pictures to get you up to speed.
Kev went to a birthday party where he got a balloon hat shaped like - surprise, surprise! - an elephant. And wow, was he excited. And then wow, was he devastated when it shrunk!
He's learning to write his name. Love it!
And to draw people (before conception which I find especially advanced for a 3 year old).
Here's my little man with a picture of me! I always thought my face had good lines.
Kev and Uncle Mikey on one of his visits. Please note the book title - Love is a Handful of Honey. That's right. Uncle Mikey, ex-Marine, was reading Love is a Handful of Honey.
Amiya (front row, candy-cane socks) and her class doing their holiday performance. They sang "The Everlasting Fruitcake" and it was (completely true, despite being completely biased) the best song of the whole show. She was very cute and very happy to be up there. The girl's got charisma.
Amiya worked hard on gifts for her teachers this year - she chose to make them each a little loaf of apple spice bread and for the first time ever she can really take credit for all the cooking. She did a great job and got rave reviews!
We went caroling for canned goods again this year - above is the original crew, minus a few who were out with a stomach thing.
Amiya, singing at her favorite teacher's house.
Can you see Kev? Second from the left, red sweater, brown shoes? He loved caroling and I still catch him singing jingle bells.
The haul - over 300 canned goods and $150 dollars - all to our school's food pantry. Next year, we're on again - but this time the Dads have to join us!And then there was Christmas:
Amiya and Kev in front of the tree on Christmas Eve. Amiya was wearing the dress that her cousin Nisha wore as the flower girl in our wedding. I loved seeing her in it and she loved having this connection with her cousin.
Amiya and Kev in front of the tree on Christmas Eve. Amiya was wearing the dress that her cousin Nisha wore as the flower girl in our wedding. I loved seeing her in it and she loved having this connection with her cousin.
Amiya and Grandma. Two peas in a pod. Really. Which brings me to this next picture.
Every Christmas, Amiya, Mom and I get all dressed up and head out for a girls only tea. After dining, we head to the fabulous Tampa Theater for a sing-along showing of White Christmas. Amiya knows every. single. word. of every. single. song. and she sings them all year long. There's one song that is especially popular - "Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters." Skip back a picture. See those two goofballs? Anytime they have something going, they sing, "Sisters, sisters, yada, yada, yada, yada, yada." I can't deny how cute it is.
Amiya wanted an American Girl doll for Christmas, but I talked her out of that - the chicky doesn't ever play with dolls. Instead, she focused on a much more reasonably priced Madame Alexander doll. Amiya's face absolutely lit up on Christmas Eve when she opened her doll up. And then. Oh, and then. When she found the gift from Grandma with a matching dress for both Priya (her doll) and herself. So, so sweet.More soon. Promise.
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