Shokufeh is... home

Ah, the pressure

This last day of the year has been quiet and unproductive. Ha. Sometimes I focus so much on productivity that Sam includes wishes for a productive day when he's saying grace. On a good note, I did complete every item on my (short) to-do list yesterday. I think that's part of why today is lame: I overdid the attack on the dust bunnies and today my sinuses ached. After hot beverages and naps, I'm now feeling better and contemplating the best way to redeem the day. Going out for dinner? A trip to Wal-Mart to stock up on bins to better organize my stuff? Watching a DVD? Finally downloading the numerous pictures trapped on my camera?

I'm not sure when I stopped really celebrating the start of the Gregorian New Year, but I'll be surprised if I'm up at midnight. I think because the weather this time of year is not all that fantastic, I'm not very motivated to go out anywhere. We had thought about going to see the lighting of the bonfires, but we seem to have lost our momentum on that front. They were supposed to have been lit on Christmas Eve, to guide Papa Noel up the river, but the weather did not lend itself to such. Maybe next year.

3-2-1 Contact

Earlier this week, I suggested to Sam that maybe we should make him a t-shirt that says "Shokufeh's Husband," or "Married to Shokufeh," or "Shokufeh's my wife," or some-such that would convey to others that he is intimately linked to me. I just think it would make life a little more interesting and easier. New Orleans is a city of village-like connections: it is not unusual to run into people you know. In fact, it is unusual not to. Last week, my mother was bemoaning the state of her hair after we ran into someone she hadn't seen since high school. Today, in an attempt to satisfy my curiousity about a building I'd seen from a distance, we drove around a neighborhood I never spend time in. We didn't find the building, but I did take some interesting pictures, and passed by my old next door neighbor chatting it up on a streetcorner. Of course, we turned around to go say hello. This crossing of paths is one of the things I love, absolutely love, about living in New Orleans again. I feel a little bummed out that Sam can't experience this. Of course, the longer he lives here, the more likely it is that, in the course of daily living, he will run into friends and acquaintances. But I figure a t-shirt can put it on the fast track. I'm relatively sure that I'm the only Shokufeh in town. (At least as a first name. The aunt of an elementary school classmate really liked my name and, I'm told, gave it to her daughter as middle name.) When people see his t-shirt they may say "Oh! I should meet him." or "Ew! I should walk in the other direction." But there will be some sort of connection. Eventually.

No room at the inn

We have a full house these days: the regular five residents, plus the brothers, plus one brother's girlfriend. The amazing thing is that the house is very quiet right now. In fact, it's been relatively quiet in general. Any of you that know my family in person realize how strange that is.

Yesterday, we celebrated my father's birthday (the big six-o!) with lunch at the Palace Cafe and cake with friends in the evening. We were lucky enough to snag a Berry Chantilly cake from Whole Foods - the same kind we got a couple of months ago for MrMan's baptism.

The day before, we did Christmas. Again, any of you that know my family in person realize how strange that is. Growing up as a Baha'i, I didn't do Christmas. Yes, I recognized that it was a celebration of the birth of Christ, but it wasn't my holiday. My parents generally gave each of us one gift and then we hung out, usually with at least one movie. This year we had a Christmas tree. Seven feet tall, with real wee pine cones and blinking lights. Only our second tree as a married couple. The first under my parents' roof since I was three and convinced them that a tree was essential to my well being. I was nervous about MrMan trying to push it, or unwrap the gifts, but all went fine. It was rather amazing to me how big a pile of gifts was under the tree, considering that there are only 1.5 Christians in the house (2.5 once brother's girlfriend arrived). So we unwrapped oodles of presents while eating baked oatmeal (yum!), ate lunch at Five Happiness (in honor of my parents' tradition of eating there on Christmas, though since we ate lunch instead of dinner, we didn't see the friends - who are Jewish - they usually see), and had dinner at home with a couple of friends (ham, gumbo, tofurkey, veggies, kingChristmas cake...).

MrMan was a bit overwhelmed by all the presents he received. So many new toys. So many new clothes. We broke it down into four unwrapping sessions over 24 hours, but it was still a bit much. No melt downs, just fatigue. Which means long naps. Which means happy me.

Today and the rest of the week, I'm enjoying hanging out and seeing old friends. And I get to hang with Sam - he started the job two weeks ago, and now gets off from Christmas to New Year's. How awesome is that?!

I'm a winner!, or My South African day

Did I ever tell you that I won? I won! A prize! Through NaBloPoMo! The very kind Danielle gave me an Equal Exchange basket of goodies - coffee, tea, cocoa, chocolate bars - all organic and not from the man. My package arrived today, and now I am enjoying rooibos tea, grown by farmers of the Wupperthal Community in the Cederberg region of South Africa. This is part of why I blog. No, not to receive treats in the mail, but to connect. Danielle didn't have to offer a gift. And once she did, there was nothing saying she had to carry through with sending it. But she did. And as I started drinking my tea, I realized that the music playing was also South African: Johnny Clegg & Savuka's Scatterlings of Africa. And then I realized I'm reading a book about growing about in South Africa: Mark Mathabane's Kaffir Boy. My South African day! I'll probably enjoy another one tomorrow.

One of the many things I want to blog about

I love the unique relationship MrMan has with each of the adults in the house. In recent weeks, it has become apparent that he's not just a grandson to my dad, he's his brother. In blood, and in oatmeal. Week before last, we took a group trip to the lab for blood draws: MrMan's for lead levels, my dad's for whatever senior citizens worry about. (Ha, Pop!) When we came out, my dad proclaimed them blood brothers. This week, they've become stronger in their oatmeal bond. Both of them usually have the stuff for breakfast, at different times of the morning. But this week, my dad made his batch a little bigger on a couple of occasions, so he could share. It was nice to come into the kitchen this morning and find a little bowl with a post-it, reading "MrMan," on it.

I We did it!

This week is a bit crazy. Sam started his new job today. Yay! My mom has three exams (two in town, one out of town) and an important meeting at work. My dad has started driving again (a convenience because we don't have to chauffeur him around anymore, an inconvenience because it requires more coordination of the use of the two cars). When my mom has class, I fill in for her at work - a high school library. Up until now, Sam would watch MrMan while I went to work. But, now he goes to work. So, today, while my mom took an exam, MrMan and I filled in at the library. I was a bit hesitant. He spends time at the library, but usually no more than an hour at a time. Today was five hours! We took some food and a few toys, and even bought a rather extravagant tent yesterday so that he could have his own little space. The tent helped, but I think we would have done okay even if we didn't have it. I even got a little work done. MrMan proved that he has a lot of patience for hanging out in the same space, even when it's not one that filled with toys. I was really pleased with how well he handled our time there. I proved that I can juggle mothering and working, assuming that neither ball flies out of control. We'll get another chance to test our mettle Wednesday afternoon, when my mom goes for her out-of-town exam.

Puke fluke?

Before I was born, maybe before she was even married, my mother decided that her children would not be pukers. This decision of hers was apparently supported by all involved - me, my brothers, the universe. I can count on one hand the number of times in my life that I've thrown up. And I'd give Jerry Seinfeld a run for the money: until I gave birth and had a bad reaction to the anesthesia, it had been more than 21 years since my last hurl.

So, with my mother's success in mind, I made the same decision: my children would not be pukers. Sam tried to remind me that the children would be half his, and his family pukes. But I would not listen. Apparently, it's the not listening, rather than the not puking that MrMan has inherited from me.

In general, he keeps his food down, but he's been slipping lately. Tuesday, just as I was parking the car, anticipating entering the store, a sound erupted from the back seat. Sam looked back and exclaimed. I was expecting explosive diarrhea, but got projectile vomiting. Hummus, tortilla, and sharp cheddar do not make a good combo when they come back up. I really had to calm myself before pitching in to help Sam clean up MrMan: as a non-puker, I'm rendered virtually useless when faced with puke. It's my kryptonite. These days, I don't usually travel with a spare outfit, but thank goodness I had one that day. With the help of wipes and a few plastic bags that Sam grabbed from the store, we got MrMan presentable and the carseat relatively clean. He was in a perfectly good mood, after getting over the shock of hurling his lunch.

The next evening, just as we were pulling in front of the house, a gentler version of the same sound came from the back seat. MrMan puked again. Raisins and crackers are much easier to deal with than hummus and cheese. For the past couple of days, I get a little anxious any time I hear MrMan fussing from the backseat. So far, so good. I'm hoping these were just puke flukes and that he has joined the maternal camp of non-pukers.

Dessert revolution

After a particularly rich dinner out, I've got a new idea for restaurants: offer steamed broccoli on the dessert menu. Cheap materials, little labor.... Combine this with guilty consciences and a tardy desire for balanced meal, and they'd make a pretty penny. I think some might order it just for the novelty of broccoli for dessert.

My week of weather, in pictures

The weather this week has been interesting, very variable, in a mostly gorgeous kind of way. I love the fact that I could take this picture:

and this one:

in the same week. Nature rocks!

Last night the temperature dropped more than thirty degrees. Brrrr. I'm not complaining too much, because it meant I could take this picture today: