For the most part, I think I'm A Pretty Good Mom. You know, I do a lot of thankless stuff that will help my kids in the future, like making sure they eat their vegetables, helping them with homework and piano practice, carting them around to dance practice and play dates, and teaching them responsibility and consideration of others by giving them chores. I also take credit for teaching them to read and for the little Gujarati (our native language) that they know. However, once in a blue moon (or once a day, but who's counting?) something happens that makes me wonder if maybe I'm not actually A Pretty Good Mom but if in fact I'm A Really Bad Mom, or perhaps even The Worst Mom Ever. Here is a case in point:
First off, you should know that my 6 year old daughter, M, has been losing her teeth like crazy. She just lost her 4th tooth yesterday and of course, was anxious to get it under the pillow last night so that she could get some cash the next day. (I have no idea why they think they need cash when we give them whatever they need anyway. God, I'm sounding like my mom...) The first time M lost a tooth, our Tooth Fairy (um, that would be me...) appeared to be very excited and left her a dollar and some change (did I mention she's kind of a cheap tooth fairy?) in a very timely manner and in the expected location (under the pillow). However, she has since been seriously slacking off and has become kind of a flake. One time, we were alarmed to discover one morning that the tooth we left under the pillow was still there and there was no money. It was sad at first. But then, upon further investigation, Yours Truly was able to find it on the floor (after pulling it out of my pocket, that is). We theorized that perhaps M had tossed and turned a lot that evening and it just fell on the floor. What a relief! After that, the Tooth Fairy made a more timely appearance with lost teeth.
Well...at least until last night.
It started out well. We carefully placed M's precious little front incisor in a little cloth pouch and put it under her pillow. Usually, the Tooth Fairy likes to wait a half hour or an hour after M goes to bed before she makes her appearance, to make sure she's really asleep. Last night, however, she failed to show up. Lord knows what she was doing...probably watching TV and blogging (what a loser!) Anyway, this morning, M came into our room looking dejected and said "The Tooth Fairy didn't come! I even looked under the bed!", at which point I turn to my husband and say in silent-speak "I am The Worst Mom Ever!" He tells her "Oh, maybe she'll come tonight", and I say, "Um...I'll help you look in a little bit, M." Then I send her off to brush her teeth and while she was doing that, I ran downstairs and got a couple of bucks out of my wallet and race back to her room to see where I could plant it. I ended up putting it between the mattress and the headboard, trying to make it look like it was displaced by another night of tossing and turning. When she was done brushing, we went to investigate and I had her look around extra carefully ("Hey, maybe it fell in the crack, M!") and of course, she found it.
When I dropped her off at school today, her teacher was happy to learn she lost her shaky tooth and asked her if the Tooth Fairy came. M said, "Well, at first we thought she didn't come." I stood behind M nodding and saying in silent-speak "I am The Worst Mom Ever!" and then out loud, "...but then we found the money between the bed and the headboard!" We exchanged knowing looks and smirks. And when M wasn't looking, her teacher (God bless her!!!) whispered to me, "You wouldn't believe how many times I've had to do that!" and also "Once I had to hide the money inside the pillow case!" because her kids had looked everywhere else. (I'm filing that one away for future reference.) That was nice of her to tell me that because I think instead of feeling like just A Really Bad Mom like I do right now, I would probably still be feeling like The Worst Mom Ever.
And, thankfully, M. still believes in the Tooth Fairy. Looks like I can defer "the shattering of dreams" to another day...
Unfortunately (or fortunately) depending on how you see it, I called this story Episode 1 because as I was writing it, I realized that I probably will have a million other examples of how I'm A Really Bad Mom and that I could probably make this into a regular feature. (Hmm, I'm not sure whether I should be embarrassed or psyched about this...) Remind me sometime to tell you about the prequel to this story when I almost unmasked the Easter Bunny and then the sequel to this story where I took M. to spend her Tooth Fairy money, ironically, on CANDY, thereby perpetuating the vicious cycle of lost tooth/Tooth Fairy visit/monetary reward/candy consumption/cavity/lost tooth, etc. etc. =(
That just sounds like something A Really Bad Mom would do...
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Baby Steps
Well, we've reached a couple of small milestones here at The Birth of a Notion, which I'd like to share with you. Firstly, this little blog is no longer just a little newborn blog, but is now an entire month old! Like every proud parent, I am beaming at how well the little bugger is doing.
My little blog has managed to get a respectable readership going (does it matter that I'm related to half of them?), gotten some recognition from respectable bloggers (thank you Authorblog and Anali's First Amendment), and even managed to get one of its stories out for publication in a real, live magazine! That is pretty cool for just a month old, I think. It's quite a precocious little blog if you ask me. I do know it is still only a tiny little notion and not yet a full-fledged notion, but it is well on it's way, and getting stronger every day. (Gosh, I'm rhyming and I wasn't even trying. Ugh...there I go again...)
Secondly, this site was visited by the 1000th visitor today, which is also very exciting. According to Sitemeter, the visitor was from the Kissimmee, Florida area, a lovely place indeed. My parents took us there for a family vacation to Disney when we were younger and I remember it fondly. (Well, mostly fondly, except for the part where I was stuck in the car with all of them for an interminable ride from New Jersey to Florida and back again. Don't even ask me about the part where my mom kicked us all out of the car...) I think they use the motto "Kiss me, I'm from Kissimmee!" down there. (But if they don't, maybe they should...it's really quite good! Oh my, rhyming again...I feel like Dr. Seuss. I think it's all those damn kids' books I have to read at bedtime...)
Well, feel free to congratulate me. (Comments are the equivalent of giving cash gifts around here. Seriously. That's the currency of the blogosphere.) And if you're from Kissimmee and happened to visit my site today just before 5 pm, please say "hi". I don't have a door prize or anything, but maybe I'll dedicate a blog to you or something...
Better yet, maybe I'll write you a rhyme!
My little blog has managed to get a respectable readership going (does it matter that I'm related to half of them?), gotten some recognition from respectable bloggers (thank you Authorblog and Anali's First Amendment), and even managed to get one of its stories out for publication in a real, live magazine! That is pretty cool for just a month old, I think. It's quite a precocious little blog if you ask me. I do know it is still only a tiny little notion and not yet a full-fledged notion, but it is well on it's way, and getting stronger every day. (Gosh, I'm rhyming and I wasn't even trying. Ugh...there I go again...)
Secondly, this site was visited by the 1000th visitor today, which is also very exciting. According to Sitemeter, the visitor was from the Kissimmee, Florida area, a lovely place indeed. My parents took us there for a family vacation to Disney when we were younger and I remember it fondly. (Well, mostly fondly, except for the part where I was stuck in the car with all of them for an interminable ride from New Jersey to Florida and back again. Don't even ask me about the part where my mom kicked us all out of the car...) I think they use the motto "Kiss me, I'm from Kissimmee!" down there. (But if they don't, maybe they should...it's really quite good! Oh my, rhyming again...I feel like Dr. Seuss. I think it's all those damn kids' books I have to read at bedtime...)
Well, feel free to congratulate me. (Comments are the equivalent of giving cash gifts around here. Seriously. That's the currency of the blogosphere.) And if you're from Kissimmee and happened to visit my site today just before 5 pm, please say "hi". I don't have a door prize or anything, but maybe I'll dedicate a blog to you or something...
Better yet, maybe I'll write you a rhyme!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Signs of Spring
I took out the camera today to take a few pics in our garden since I'm finally seeing some signs of spring around here. Boy, has it been a long winter. I took the picture of the crocuses earlier in the month--unfortunately, they were short-lived and are already gone. But, as you can see, they have been replaced by other pretty blooms. I definitely need to plant more bulbs in the fall! I really look forward to the arrival of these precious little things...
Crocuses
Forsythia
Pear blossoms
Azalea (with a busy bee)
"Flowers... are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Crocuses
Forsythia
Pear blossoms
Azalea (with a busy bee)"Flowers... are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Free Roxana Saberi
A group of bloggers is holding a blog rally in support of journalist Roxana Saberi (who is spending her birthday on a hunger strike in Tehran's Evin Prison) and for others who have dared to express their thoughts freely only to be imprisoned, abused, or killed. Please consider placing a blue ribbon this week on your blog, website, and facebook / myspace / twitter page, and invite others to do the same, in honor of the journalists, bloggers, students, and writers who are imprisoned in Evin Prison and other prisons around the world for speaking and writing down their thoughts.
Also, please consider contacting the officials in Iran to express your concern for Roxana Saberi, your desire to return her home, and for her to have a fair appeals process. Here's who you can contact:
His Excellency Ambassador Mohammed Khazaee
Thanks to T. at Notes of an Anesthesioboist for starting this conscientious rally.
Also, please consider contacting the officials in Iran to express your concern for Roxana Saberi, your desire to return her home, and for her to have a fair appeals process. Here's who you can contact:
His Excellency Ambassador Mohammed Khazaee
Thanks to T. at Notes of an Anesthesioboist for starting this conscientious rally.
Today is the Best Day Ever!
My kids teach me so much. I sometimes like to refer to them as "my little Zen masters" because they are so good at living in the present moment. In some ways, children are much wiser than us big folks.
Recently, my son D, who is 4, has gotten into the habit of saying "This is the best day ever!" every time anything slightly good or exciting happens. For instance, last night we went out for Mexican food (he loves the warm restaurant tortilla chips) and at the restaurant he declared, in his loudest and most embarrassing voice, that "This is the best day ever!" He managed to repeat "This is the best day ever!" a couple more times thanks to a blue helium balloon and a rich, chocolatey milk he also received at the restaurant. It was cute and funny. I think it's so terrific that small things like this make them so happy.
Today when we got up, I told him that his grandparents were coming over for a barbeque this afternoon. Of course, his response was "This is the best day ever!" And then I said, "I thought you said yesterday was the best day ever?" To which he responded that no, it was actually today that was "the best day ever".
And you know what, he's right. Today is always the best day ever. The best day ever was not the day you got married or had your kids or got your first home. Nor is it the day in the future when you get a new job, watch your children graduate college, or retire to your beach house. No, today is always the best day ever--the day you have in your hands right now. I hope I can always remember to make the very most of it.
It's a good thing I have the Zen masters here in residence to remind me. =)
Recently, my son D, who is 4, has gotten into the habit of saying "This is the best day ever!" every time anything slightly good or exciting happens. For instance, last night we went out for Mexican food (he loves the warm restaurant tortilla chips) and at the restaurant he declared, in his loudest and most embarrassing voice, that "This is the best day ever!" He managed to repeat "This is the best day ever!" a couple more times thanks to a blue helium balloon and a rich, chocolatey milk he also received at the restaurant. It was cute and funny. I think it's so terrific that small things like this make them so happy.
Today when we got up, I told him that his grandparents were coming over for a barbeque this afternoon. Of course, his response was "This is the best day ever!" And then I said, "I thought you said yesterday was the best day ever?" To which he responded that no, it was actually today that was "the best day ever".
And you know what, he's right. Today is always the best day ever. The best day ever was not the day you got married or had your kids or got your first home. Nor is it the day in the future when you get a new job, watch your children graduate college, or retire to your beach house. No, today is always the best day ever--the day you have in your hands right now. I hope I can always remember to make the very most of it.
It's a good thing I have the Zen masters here in residence to remind me. =)
Friday, April 24, 2009
Fine Art Friday
Interior With an Open Window, Raoul DufyArt is a big part of my life. I absolutely love it. In my younger days, I liked to spend hours at art museums, especially in college and in my travels. One of the high points in my life was when I had the opportunity to travel to France with a girl friend and see the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, the Musee Rodin (in Paris), and the Musee Matisse (in Nice). I am hoping I get to do it again someday. These days, most of my trolling is on the internet, or in magazines, or wherever else I stumble upon art. My kids are probably old enough now that I can probably take them to our local museum. I can't wait--beautiful art is a joy and inspiration and I hope they can learn to appreciate it.
Anyway, today I happened to read an article about Raoul Dufy that inspired me to write this post. I have (tentatively) decided that I might start doing a regular piece on Fridays called "Fine Art Friday" in which I feature a piece of art that I find especially beautiful and inspiring. It will have several purposes: educational (for me and my readers), aesthetic (making my blog even more beautiful!), and of course, literary (yet another thing to blog about).
Raoul Dufy lived from 1877-1953. He was considered a Fauvist painter, part of a group of Modern artists in the early 20th century . 'Les Fauves' (or "wild beasts") used bold color and brush strokes in their paintings. You may notice that the painting above has a style reminiscent of Matisse, who was also considered a Fauvist. Fauvism can be interpreted as an extreme fusion of Post-Impressionism (Van Gogh's style) and pointilism (Seurat's style).
Raoul Dufy is best known for his vibrant and cheerful scenes, especially outdoors, including the French Riviera, Paris, and images like sailboats, flowers, and lively still lifes.
I also found a great quote of his online today, which I think reveals a lot about him: "What I wish to show when I paint is the way I see things with my eyes and in my heart."
From looking at his paintings, I think he must have been a very optimistic person, full of life and energy. Paintings like his can't solve your problems, but maybe they can help take a little bit of stress away and maybe impart a little bit of cheerfulness to your day. Life is not easy, but it is certainly a little easier when we think positively.
Anyway, today I happened to read an article about Raoul Dufy that inspired me to write this post. I have (tentatively) decided that I might start doing a regular piece on Fridays called "Fine Art Friday" in which I feature a piece of art that I find especially beautiful and inspiring. It will have several purposes: educational (for me and my readers), aesthetic (making my blog even more beautiful!), and of course, literary (yet another thing to blog about).
Raoul Dufy lived from 1877-1953. He was considered a Fauvist painter, part of a group of Modern artists in the early 20th century . 'Les Fauves' (or "wild beasts") used bold color and brush strokes in their paintings. You may notice that the painting above has a style reminiscent of Matisse, who was also considered a Fauvist. Fauvism can be interpreted as an extreme fusion of Post-Impressionism (Van Gogh's style) and pointilism (Seurat's style).
Raoul Dufy is best known for his vibrant and cheerful scenes, especially outdoors, including the French Riviera, Paris, and images like sailboats, flowers, and lively still lifes.
I also found a great quote of his online today, which I think reveals a lot about him: "What I wish to show when I paint is the way I see things with my eyes and in my heart."
From looking at his paintings, I think he must have been a very optimistic person, full of life and energy. Paintings like his can't solve your problems, but maybe they can help take a little bit of stress away and maybe impart a little bit of cheerfulness to your day. Life is not easy, but it is certainly a little easier when we think positively.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Open Letter to My Facebook Family and Friends
Dear Facebook Family and Friends,
Well, I just want to start out by saying that I think it is really awesome that we can keep in touch better now thanks to Facebook. I mean, how great that we can now kind of be part of each other's lives without actually having to be part of each other's lives?
Right?
No, seriously, though, it is so great that despite being many miles away from most of you that I can still see how you all are doing. I really love seeing pics of your husbands and wives and your cute kids and see what you look like now and what you're up to. You know what--most of you look better than I thought you would've looked! (I mean that in the nicest possible way).
It is also really great to have reconnected with friends from my younger days. I mean, who would've thought that I would still be friends with Millie or Beatrice or Michael from grammar school?! (Just don't tell Michael that I don't actually remember anything about him.) That's just amazing! Also, it is so great knowing that my goth friend from high school Heather did not actually ever end up in a state penitentiary or insane asylum, as my dad thought she would have. She's a very successful artist now!
I also think it's just so great that I can keep in touch with my extended family (especially all my much younger cousins) so much better now. If not for facebook, I don't know when I'd get to talk to or see any of you guys. Now, I can just log in and spy on you all I want. Sometimes, I've been tempted to write admonitions on your Walls, you know something like "Remember: no glove, no love" but thought better of it. I decided that you'd probably drop me as a Facebook friend after a stunt like that. Besides, you know who you are (Chuck, Anil). Sorry, sometimes I just feel so maternal about you guys since you're so much younger than me.
Facebooking has really gotten me more connected with all of my friends and family. Now, instead of maybe just getting a Christmas card once a year or the random call or email, I get so much more contact with all of you! I can't even keep track of how many "pokes" I've gotten, and all the good karma, virtual flowers, virtual pets, quiz invitations, cause invitations and IQ challenges I've gotten. It's kind of nuts. Most of the time I have to hit the "ignore" button, not because I don't love whatever you're sending my way (because I do), but because I actually have to deal with mundane real life issues like feeding my children so I can't sit around and accept the very thoughtful virtual case of beer you sent me. You know what, I honestly couldn't drink that much anyway. But it's the thought that counts.
Sometimes, I admit, it can get to be a bit too much. Recently, my neighbor Winnie sent me a "Which crazy b$tch are you?" quiz invitation that I am still trying not to take personally. Then there's my high school friend Rose who is kind of obsessed with the Superpoke application and has pretty much done something inappropriate to me almost every single day since we became Facebook friends. The last time I checked, she "threw a Shamwow" at me. (I admit that I have been thinking about buying a Shamwow (the ads look amazing!) but a virtual one is going to do me no good.) Despite my lack of a response, she continues to faithfully assault me on a daily basis...now that's what I call a real friend!
I also want to thank all of you who recently took the time to wish me a "happy birthday" on facebook. I was really shocked at how many of you took the time to do that. That was really, really thoughtful. However, I just want you to know that you may not be able to rely on me to return the favor when it's your birthday not because I don't wish you a happy birthday (because I do!) but because I find it kind of overwhelming to keep up with hundreds of people's birthdays. If you don't mind, I'd like to wish all of you a very happy birthday right now and apply it to all future birthdays. Here goes: may you have good health, happiness, and prosperity your entire lives!
Great...I'm glad that's out of the way. Now, if I happen to log in and see that it's your birthday, I may just send a bonus "happy birthday" to you. But if I don't, consider today's birthday message to be in effect. Thanks so much...
I know I'm forgetting to mention something, but I'll just have to save it for a future "open letter" to you guys...
This facebook stuff is exhausting, even to blog about.
Hugs and kisses,
K.
Well, I just want to start out by saying that I think it is really awesome that we can keep in touch better now thanks to Facebook. I mean, how great that we can now kind of be part of each other's lives without actually having to be part of each other's lives?
Right?
No, seriously, though, it is so great that despite being many miles away from most of you that I can still see how you all are doing. I really love seeing pics of your husbands and wives and your cute kids and see what you look like now and what you're up to. You know what--most of you look better than I thought you would've looked! (I mean that in the nicest possible way).
It is also really great to have reconnected with friends from my younger days. I mean, who would've thought that I would still be friends with Millie or Beatrice or Michael from grammar school?! (Just don't tell Michael that I don't actually remember anything about him.) That's just amazing! Also, it is so great knowing that my goth friend from high school Heather did not actually ever end up in a state penitentiary or insane asylum, as my dad thought she would have. She's a very successful artist now!
I also think it's just so great that I can keep in touch with my extended family (especially all my much younger cousins) so much better now. If not for facebook, I don't know when I'd get to talk to or see any of you guys. Now, I can just log in and spy on you all I want. Sometimes, I've been tempted to write admonitions on your Walls, you know something like "Remember: no glove, no love" but thought better of it. I decided that you'd probably drop me as a Facebook friend after a stunt like that. Besides, you know who you are (Chuck, Anil). Sorry, sometimes I just feel so maternal about you guys since you're so much younger than me.
Facebooking has really gotten me more connected with all of my friends and family. Now, instead of maybe just getting a Christmas card once a year or the random call or email, I get so much more contact with all of you! I can't even keep track of how many "pokes" I've gotten, and all the good karma, virtual flowers, virtual pets, quiz invitations, cause invitations and IQ challenges I've gotten. It's kind of nuts. Most of the time I have to hit the "ignore" button, not because I don't love whatever you're sending my way (because I do), but because I actually have to deal with mundane real life issues like feeding my children so I can't sit around and accept the very thoughtful virtual case of beer you sent me. You know what, I honestly couldn't drink that much anyway. But it's the thought that counts.
Sometimes, I admit, it can get to be a bit too much. Recently, my neighbor Winnie sent me a "Which crazy b$tch are you?" quiz invitation that I am still trying not to take personally. Then there's my high school friend Rose who is kind of obsessed with the Superpoke application and has pretty much done something inappropriate to me almost every single day since we became Facebook friends. The last time I checked, she "threw a Shamwow" at me. (I admit that I have been thinking about buying a Shamwow (the ads look amazing!) but a virtual one is going to do me no good.) Despite my lack of a response, she continues to faithfully assault me on a daily basis...now that's what I call a real friend!
I also want to thank all of you who recently took the time to wish me a "happy birthday" on facebook. I was really shocked at how many of you took the time to do that. That was really, really thoughtful. However, I just want you to know that you may not be able to rely on me to return the favor when it's your birthday not because I don't wish you a happy birthday (because I do!) but because I find it kind of overwhelming to keep up with hundreds of people's birthdays. If you don't mind, I'd like to wish all of you a very happy birthday right now and apply it to all future birthdays. Here goes: may you have good health, happiness, and prosperity your entire lives!
Great...I'm glad that's out of the way. Now, if I happen to log in and see that it's your birthday, I may just send a bonus "happy birthday" to you. But if I don't, consider today's birthday message to be in effect. Thanks so much...
I know I'm forgetting to mention something, but I'll just have to save it for a future "open letter" to you guys...
This facebook stuff is exhausting, even to blog about.
Hugs and kisses,
K.
Happy Earth Day!
New Hampshire, Summer 2007I heard on the news this morning that an earth-like planet has recently been discovered in outer space. It has a mass that is similar to the Earth and is rocky like the Earth. It is about 457 light-years away from us. (To give you an idea of how far that is, one light-year is 6 trillion miles!!!) This other planet revolves around a sun-like star, but in a rather close range, making it very hot and incompatible with life as we know it.
It is staggering to think of how rare and precious our Earth is in this giant universe. How lucky we are to live on such a beautiful and lush planet with so much life and beauty in every corner!
Here's hoping we always remember to appreciate and take care of this lovely place...
Happy Earth Day everyone!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Photo Blog
So today I decided that my blog is kind of blaaaah and needs a little more pizazz. A friend of mine who thinks I have a good "eye" for photography (isn't she sweet?) suggested I feature some of my pics, so that's what I'm doing today.I am an extremely novice photographer and have no idea what most of the buttons on my camera do, nor do I use any really fancy equipment. I have a Canon Rebel XT. I don't know what lenses to use with it or what terms like "aperture" and "shutter speed" have to do with taking a picture. I can't bring myself to read the guidebook that came with the camera either. It looks pretty snooze-worthy. (It has no pictures! I mean, isn't that ironic?) I just know what I like and that's what I try to capture. If I knew more, they'd probably be better...I have "take a photography class" on my list of "100 things to do before I die", but since it's way down there on the list, I haven't gotten to it yet...
Anyway, here are some older posts I attached some pics to. (You may notice that the picture may have nothing to do with the subject matter, and quite frankly, you're expecting too much if you think that's ever going to happen!):
Now, I know they're nothing to write home about, but please be respectful of my humble little pics and not "borrow" them without my permission. (Please see my copyright notice at the bottom of my blog.) I don't want to have to get the authorities involved. Plus I won't be your friend anymore. =)
But if you like them, please let me know because it will encourage me to stop being a lazy bum and whip out the camera more! Thanks!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Born Again
I am 37 years old today.I no longer recognize the person in my mirror. She doesn't look like the girl I think I am, the one that still has a whole lot of growing and learning (and having fun) to do.
I've never reached a point in my life where I felt I was "done". I thought when I was younger that I would be "done" after college and med school. And when that was done, I thought I would be "done" when I got married and had children.
But now I realize that I'm not ever really going to be "done". I will always be evolving. I am not the same person I was 5, 10, or 15 years ago. I won't be the same person even tomorrow. I haven't yet seen the full breadth of my being. And sadly, I probably never will. There are probably not enough days left in my lifetime to learn all the things I'd like to learn and to do all the things I'd like to do.
(You can bet I'll try, though.)
So, these days, I try not to think about when I'll be "done" anymore. I'm not waiting around for my book to be published or for the kids to be grown or for the day I retire. (Who knows if I'll ever see those days at all?) I'm just enjoying today. And what a great day it's been (even though I've been a little under-the-weather)! My kids sang "Happy Birthday" to me; my husband offered to drive a couple of hours to take me out to dinner but I didn't want him to bother; I received so many phone calls, emails, and texts from friends and family sending me good wishes (thank you!); I made some nurses and patients laugh today (some people actually think I'm funny!); I am probably going to get to deliver a baby on my birthday (which I think would be very poetic), and I even had time to write this self-absorbed blog! Haha...
I am 37 years old today and I am very, very far from "done".
And, in fact, my life has only just begun!
:)
Friday, April 17, 2009
Full Disclosure
This past week has been a complete blur. I have been walking around like a zombie feeling half-dead all week thanks to an abysmal case of the common cold. I'm finally feeling a little better now, still a little froggy-throated and glazed over, but functional. Also, my concomitant case of viral conjunctivitis is resolving and I'm not waking up all gluey-eyed and crusty, which is a relief because it's quite disgusting. (Note to self: in the future, do not rub eyes after a fit of coughing.)
Anyway, today I was well enough to attend my monthly writers' group meeting. We are a group of 5 women writers who met at a "Memoir Writing Workshop" sponsored at our local library this past fall. After the 6-week course ended, we had such a great time pouring our souls out in writing that we decided to continue meeting on a monthly basis at the library. It's terrific to have a little audience of like-minded (and extremely positive) people to write for because it motivates you to write more. I highly recommend it! I have now known these women for over 6 months and I can honestly say they are becoming good friends! I know some of their stories, their personalities, their lives and they are just the nicest people. I will definitely credit them in my book someday (if it ever exists).
I have to admit, when I first took the 6 week workshop, I was a little hesitant to share my personal stories with them because I had no idea who they were and what kind of people they were. It is scary to go to a class like this and write a memoir piece about your family or friends or whatever and share it with a bunch of strangers. I started out pretty tame, not revealing very much, because I wasn't sure how much I could or should reveal to them. For example, when we went around introducing ourselves and had to tell everyone a little bit about ourselves and why we were taking the memoir workshop, I left out a giant piece of information about myself--namely, that I am a doctor. I often find that when I tell people that, that they have certain preconceived notions about me. It kind of paints a picture that I don't necessarily want painted. For example, they will assume I am smart and sometimes treat me as a person with more authority. Since I am just a fledgling writer, like them, I really didn't want anyone giving me more credit than I deserve. I just wanted to kind of blend in and not stand out as the "doctor" in the group. Also, I find being a doctor sometimes puts you at a distance from people. They don't really want to tell you about, say, their night of drunken revelry, or other embarrassing things. As an example, recently one of the women in the group wrote a story about a horrible experience with a completely arrogant doctor. It was a terrific story and I wonder if she could have been that honest knowing that "one of them" was in the room with her.
Anyway, I managed to finish the 6 week workshop last fall without ever having to reveal that I was a doctor because I just stuck with stories from my younger years, specifically high school and college. And then when we decided to start our own writing group in January, I began writing fiction so I never really had to reveal even then that I'm a doctor. Plus so much time had now passed that it also would just be strange to just come out and say it out of the blue. It has just become this giant problem of late, because as I said, they are actually becoming what I would call friends now. And I feel like a giant heel for not having been more forthright from the beginning. I really like these women and I was getting concerned that they were going to feel like I totally deceived them by not telling them who I really am!
Obviously, something had to be done, and soon, if I wanted to continue to have a relationship with these wonderful women. Rather than make a ridiculous announcement like "Hey, I'm a doctor!", I instead opted for a more subtle approach by just telling them about my new blogging venture and have them discover it that way. Of course, I wrote out the web address for them and they noticed right away that I had an "md" behind my name and, well, the cat was unceremoniously, and embarrassingly, out of the bag. So I said, "Yes, I'm a doctor. I'm really sorry I didn't mention it before. I feel like people look at me differently when I tell them." I think they were a little shocked, but they were all very nice to me and did not let it show. Of course, I felt like a total ass afterwards.
Anyway, I just want to apologize again to my wonderful writer friends for not being more honest before. You guys know more about me than I would ever care to reveal in the blogosphere so I feel kind of silly for not having told you sooner. Hope you forgive me...I swear I don't have any more giant secrets to reveal...
Well, at least not today...
Anyway, today I was well enough to attend my monthly writers' group meeting. We are a group of 5 women writers who met at a "Memoir Writing Workshop" sponsored at our local library this past fall. After the 6-week course ended, we had such a great time pouring our souls out in writing that we decided to continue meeting on a monthly basis at the library. It's terrific to have a little audience of like-minded (and extremely positive) people to write for because it motivates you to write more. I highly recommend it! I have now known these women for over 6 months and I can honestly say they are becoming good friends! I know some of their stories, their personalities, their lives and they are just the nicest people. I will definitely credit them in my book someday (if it ever exists).
I have to admit, when I first took the 6 week workshop, I was a little hesitant to share my personal stories with them because I had no idea who they were and what kind of people they were. It is scary to go to a class like this and write a memoir piece about your family or friends or whatever and share it with a bunch of strangers. I started out pretty tame, not revealing very much, because I wasn't sure how much I could or should reveal to them. For example, when we went around introducing ourselves and had to tell everyone a little bit about ourselves and why we were taking the memoir workshop, I left out a giant piece of information about myself--namely, that I am a doctor. I often find that when I tell people that, that they have certain preconceived notions about me. It kind of paints a picture that I don't necessarily want painted. For example, they will assume I am smart and sometimes treat me as a person with more authority. Since I am just a fledgling writer, like them, I really didn't want anyone giving me more credit than I deserve. I just wanted to kind of blend in and not stand out as the "doctor" in the group. Also, I find being a doctor sometimes puts you at a distance from people. They don't really want to tell you about, say, their night of drunken revelry, or other embarrassing things. As an example, recently one of the women in the group wrote a story about a horrible experience with a completely arrogant doctor. It was a terrific story and I wonder if she could have been that honest knowing that "one of them" was in the room with her.
Anyway, I managed to finish the 6 week workshop last fall without ever having to reveal that I was a doctor because I just stuck with stories from my younger years, specifically high school and college. And then when we decided to start our own writing group in January, I began writing fiction so I never really had to reveal even then that I'm a doctor. Plus so much time had now passed that it also would just be strange to just come out and say it out of the blue. It has just become this giant problem of late, because as I said, they are actually becoming what I would call friends now. And I feel like a giant heel for not having been more forthright from the beginning. I really like these women and I was getting concerned that they were going to feel like I totally deceived them by not telling them who I really am!
Obviously, something had to be done, and soon, if I wanted to continue to have a relationship with these wonderful women. Rather than make a ridiculous announcement like "Hey, I'm a doctor!", I instead opted for a more subtle approach by just telling them about my new blogging venture and have them discover it that way. Of course, I wrote out the web address for them and they noticed right away that I had an "md" behind my name and, well, the cat was unceremoniously, and embarrassingly, out of the bag. So I said, "Yes, I'm a doctor. I'm really sorry I didn't mention it before. I feel like people look at me differently when I tell them." I think they were a little shocked, but they were all very nice to me and did not let it show. Of course, I felt like a total ass afterwards.
Anyway, I just want to apologize again to my wonderful writer friends for not being more honest before. You guys know more about me than I would ever care to reveal in the blogosphere so I feel kind of silly for not having told you sooner. Hope you forgive me...I swear I don't have any more giant secrets to reveal...
Well, at least not today...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
This is TREMENDOUS (or not)
Well, devoted Birth of a Notion followers, I have some TREMENDOUS news to report today. Brace yourself...
OK, here it is:
Your humble blog author is going to be published in a real, live, honest-to-goodness MAGAZINE!!!
Which magazine, you ask?
Well, it's called Khabar, and is a Indian-community magazine popular down in the Atlanta area, with a circulation of about 25, 000. Now, I know this is modest, but you know what they say: first Khabar...then Oprah!
OK, so...I know no one actually says that, but you know, that's not so important, is it?
In case you're interested, the story that will be published is my "Wealthy" blog...many thanks to those of you who left me so many nice comments on that! When it does come out, you can be sure that I'll plaster it all over my blog.
Anyway, I'm turning in...struggling with a cold this week...I wrote the last couple of posts in a delirious stupor and am trying to avoid blogging right now so I don't sound stupid.
Hopefully I'm not too late.
OK, here it is:
Your humble blog author is going to be published in a real, live, honest-to-goodness MAGAZINE!!!
Which magazine, you ask?
Well, it's called Khabar, and is a Indian-community magazine popular down in the Atlanta area, with a circulation of about 25, 000. Now, I know this is modest, but you know what they say: first Khabar...then Oprah!
OK, so...I know no one actually says that, but you know, that's not so important, is it?
In case you're interested, the story that will be published is my "Wealthy" blog...many thanks to those of you who left me so many nice comments on that! When it does come out, you can be sure that I'll plaster it all over my blog.
Anyway, I'm turning in...struggling with a cold this week...I wrote the last couple of posts in a delirious stupor and am trying to avoid blogging right now so I don't sound stupid.
Hopefully I'm not too late.
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Death of the Printed Word
Is anyone else depressed about the demise of the printed word? Today, I caught up on the Sunday Boston Globe and my heart sank reading the following:
http://www.boston.com/business/articles/2009/04/12/a_jewel_in_the_crown_loses_its_luster/
It appears my Sundays may soon become paperless. Maybe it's just me, but it's just not the same reading the news online. I know a lot of people like their news that way, but for me it's just not as much fun. I like my news in newsprint and smudging my fingers and crumply and foldable and cozy. I like to curl up on the couch with it and have my morning tea. I also like to have the option of perusing it in the bathroom if I so well please. (Sorry--I know that was too much information...)
This terrible economy is about to ruin my regional paper (which they call the "jewel in the crown" of The New York Times Co. in the article) and it will also probably not be long before the "newspaper" itself becomes obsolete. Our grandchildren will probably be astounded we ever read news that way. Or read anything that way for that matter.
In addition to the demise of the common newspaper, I am also mourning the loss of the old fashioned, trusty, musty, and lovely book. Thanks to Kindle, which I swore would never catch on, it appears that the next generation is probably also not going to appreciate the pleasures of writing in the margins and dog-earing beloved pages of their favorite novels. I love the smell, I love the feel, I love the comfort of my old paperbacks with their broken spines. They're like old, faithful friends. How could I ever let them go?
For now, I plan on keeping them...if only because they're going to be great collectors' items and heirlooms someday.
Ho hum...
http://www.boston.com/business/articles/2009/04/12/a_jewel_in_the_crown_loses_its_luster/
It appears my Sundays may soon become paperless. Maybe it's just me, but it's just not the same reading the news online. I know a lot of people like their news that way, but for me it's just not as much fun. I like my news in newsprint and smudging my fingers and crumply and foldable and cozy. I like to curl up on the couch with it and have my morning tea. I also like to have the option of perusing it in the bathroom if I so well please. (Sorry--I know that was too much information...)
This terrible economy is about to ruin my regional paper (which they call the "jewel in the crown" of The New York Times Co. in the article) and it will also probably not be long before the "newspaper" itself becomes obsolete. Our grandchildren will probably be astounded we ever read news that way. Or read anything that way for that matter.
In addition to the demise of the common newspaper, I am also mourning the loss of the old fashioned, trusty, musty, and lovely book. Thanks to Kindle, which I swore would never catch on, it appears that the next generation is probably also not going to appreciate the pleasures of writing in the margins and dog-earing beloved pages of their favorite novels. I love the smell, I love the feel, I love the comfort of my old paperbacks with their broken spines. They're like old, faithful friends. How could I ever let them go?
For now, I plan on keeping them...if only because they're going to be great collectors' items and heirlooms someday.
Ho hum...
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Reality Check
After finishing the extraordinary obstacle that is medical school, it's pretty easy for a new doctor to feel a little cocky. You are standing among an elite few who have been weeded out from a giant pool of candidates. You have passed countless tests, admissions processes, survived grueling hours of study and work and rotations, and finally, at the end, you receive your diploma. Now your dream for many years of being able to put "M. D. behind your name has finally come true. You have survived and conquered probably the biggest obstacle of your life. You have been validated: you are an intelligent and capable human being with so much to offer the world. You are feeling awesome!
Unfortunately, that feeling of awesomeness doesn't last long. You only have about a month to revel in your awesomeness, basking in the glow of graduation parties, your parents' pride, and your friends' admiration. In fact, by the first week of July, you realize pretty quickly that you are not actually that awesome at all, but in fact, you are a complete and total idiot. You know very little, can do very little, and no one really cares that you have an "M. D." behind your name. You are routinely humiliated, ordered around, and asked to perform menial tasks, also known as "scut". Other residents and attendings laugh at your inability to answer the simplest of questions and at how sloooowly you suture and tie knots. You are routinely pushed out of the way when anything slightly exciting or interesting is about to happen. You are the work-horse, the grunt, the peon. Most of the stuff you do is mind-numbingly boring: checking labs, doing rounds, writing notes and notes and notes. Once in a while you get to jump in and assist with a delivery, giving you a little reprieve from the endless cycle of scut. You are not allowed to take long breaks to do anything: go to the bathroom, call home, or eat lunch or dinner. An absence of more than 5 minutes will look highly suspicious.
In addition to that, you are constantly "pimped", or asked what seem to you to be esoteric questions, which when you get wrong, is a source of amusement for all around. You are left red-faced and completely degraded, and will probably run home and read about it later and smack yourself on the head for not knowing the answer at the time. If you fail to report or act on a lab abnormality or ultrasound finding, you may find yourself having to present the case at M&M's (Morbidity and Mortality conference) so that the entire department (and other departments) can publicly humiliate and chastise you. Your technical skills are also up for scrutiny. You need to be precise, efficient, elegant. There is no room for awkwardness or fumbling. You don't want the attendings to groan when they hear they have to operate with you.
There is a purpose to all this degradation. I didn't understand it then, but I kind of understand it now. Residency is like the military: they want to break you down so that they can build you up in their image. And unfortunately, it kind of has to be this way. Disciplining has to be harsh because lives are on the line. You can't just get an "Oh, you'll do better next time" when you make a mistake in residency or the military. You absolutely must be reminded that, "Were it not for us, you could have killed that person!" You have to be fearful of your lack of knowledge and skill so that you will read more, learn more, try harder , because you absolutely cannot afford to make mistakes when you are dealing with a patient's life. This is no time for hand-holding--it's more a time for collar-grabbing.
When you are living through this initial phase of residency, it is absolute torture. Your ego is massively bruised. You wonder if you made a horrible mistake wanting to be a doctor, if you really aren't cut out to do this. It feels as if you will never be good enough. You also feel completely abused. It seems like everything just trickles down and you get stuck with all the crap that no one else wants to do. You see your senior residents hanging out at the nurses' station chatting up the attending physicians and eating lunch and painting their fingernails and probably talking about you and laughing and you are running around doing EVERYTHING. You have not drank much because then you'll have to go to the bathroom, you haven't eaten in many hours, and your mother is probably mad at you because you haven't called her in days. If you are in a relationship, it's going to suffer and you will probably break up. If it does survive, you'll be paying for your neglect, one way or another.
Sometimes, all this abuse as a junior resident can make you a very bitter person. When you finally climb up in rank you may have become hardened and cold. You may make your junior residents pay for the suffering that you have had to endure. You may even make your patients or your colleagues pay for that suffering. Sometimes, even your loved ones are not immune and you bring your pain home. That is the scary and sad part. Sometimes it changes you as a human being. Cruelty often begets cruelty, unless the tortured can for a minute put themselves in their torturers' shoes. Then you may be able to see that those who torture were once the tortured.
It is a flawed, but effective, system of educating the future doctor. Hopefully, it doesn't damage and break you. Hopefully, you leave a more compassionate human being--one that even has compassion for those who have caused you pain.
Unfortunately, that feeling of awesomeness doesn't last long. You only have about a month to revel in your awesomeness, basking in the glow of graduation parties, your parents' pride, and your friends' admiration. In fact, by the first week of July, you realize pretty quickly that you are not actually that awesome at all, but in fact, you are a complete and total idiot. You know very little, can do very little, and no one really cares that you have an "M. D." behind your name. You are routinely humiliated, ordered around, and asked to perform menial tasks, also known as "scut". Other residents and attendings laugh at your inability to answer the simplest of questions and at how sloooowly you suture and tie knots. You are routinely pushed out of the way when anything slightly exciting or interesting is about to happen. You are the work-horse, the grunt, the peon. Most of the stuff you do is mind-numbingly boring: checking labs, doing rounds, writing notes and notes and notes. Once in a while you get to jump in and assist with a delivery, giving you a little reprieve from the endless cycle of scut. You are not allowed to take long breaks to do anything: go to the bathroom, call home, or eat lunch or dinner. An absence of more than 5 minutes will look highly suspicious.
In addition to that, you are constantly "pimped", or asked what seem to you to be esoteric questions, which when you get wrong, is a source of amusement for all around. You are left red-faced and completely degraded, and will probably run home and read about it later and smack yourself on the head for not knowing the answer at the time. If you fail to report or act on a lab abnormality or ultrasound finding, you may find yourself having to present the case at M&M's (Morbidity and Mortality conference) so that the entire department (and other departments) can publicly humiliate and chastise you. Your technical skills are also up for scrutiny. You need to be precise, efficient, elegant. There is no room for awkwardness or fumbling. You don't want the attendings to groan when they hear they have to operate with you.
There is a purpose to all this degradation. I didn't understand it then, but I kind of understand it now. Residency is like the military: they want to break you down so that they can build you up in their image. And unfortunately, it kind of has to be this way. Disciplining has to be harsh because lives are on the line. You can't just get an "Oh, you'll do better next time" when you make a mistake in residency or the military. You absolutely must be reminded that, "Were it not for us, you could have killed that person!" You have to be fearful of your lack of knowledge and skill so that you will read more, learn more, try harder , because you absolutely cannot afford to make mistakes when you are dealing with a patient's life. This is no time for hand-holding--it's more a time for collar-grabbing.
When you are living through this initial phase of residency, it is absolute torture. Your ego is massively bruised. You wonder if you made a horrible mistake wanting to be a doctor, if you really aren't cut out to do this. It feels as if you will never be good enough. You also feel completely abused. It seems like everything just trickles down and you get stuck with all the crap that no one else wants to do. You see your senior residents hanging out at the nurses' station chatting up the attending physicians and eating lunch and painting their fingernails and probably talking about you and laughing and you are running around doing EVERYTHING. You have not drank much because then you'll have to go to the bathroom, you haven't eaten in many hours, and your mother is probably mad at you because you haven't called her in days. If you are in a relationship, it's going to suffer and you will probably break up. If it does survive, you'll be paying for your neglect, one way or another.
Sometimes, all this abuse as a junior resident can make you a very bitter person. When you finally climb up in rank you may have become hardened and cold. You may make your junior residents pay for the suffering that you have had to endure. You may even make your patients or your colleagues pay for that suffering. Sometimes, even your loved ones are not immune and you bring your pain home. That is the scary and sad part. Sometimes it changes you as a human being. Cruelty often begets cruelty, unless the tortured can for a minute put themselves in their torturers' shoes. Then you may be able to see that those who torture were once the tortured.
It is a flawed, but effective, system of educating the future doctor. Hopefully, it doesn't damage and break you. Hopefully, you leave a more compassionate human being--one that even has compassion for those who have caused you pain.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Genetic Freaks
Hmm...I think I might have William's Syndrome (or something close to it) after reading this:
http://www.boston.com/news/health/articles/2009/03/23/study_indicates_that_gregariousness_is_genetic/
According to the article, gregariousness may be a heritable trait. Williams syndrome is a syndrome characterized by "abnormally vigorous sociability", extroversion, and less fear of people than the average person. However, they also have poor visual-spatial skills, which I don't think I have (although my husband would probably disagree on account of my sometimes less than spectacular driving skills).
I have to admit I do love people and that it is very rare for me to find someone that I'm afraid of talking to. My friends are often surprised and shocked that I can just go up to total strangers and start conversations with them. I am also never intimidated by anyone. If the Queen of England was in the same room as me, I would definitely find a way to talk to her. I can also talk to almost anybody and probably for hours. I like their funny quirks and interesting stories. And I like to talk. It's hard to shut me up at times. I meet new people almost everyday. I am one of those people who starts conversations with people while they are waiting on the grocery line or the line in the bathroom or at the post office. I once spent an entire flight to Vegas chatting up a middle aged lady (wait--am I middle aged?) while my husband plugged his ears with his iPod. I am often an embarrassment to my more shy friends because of my chatty nature.
This is probably also why I have totally embraced all these networking websites. As of today, I am on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, and now of course, I have my own blog. Tomorrow I may add something else.
Also, I aspire to write a book someday in the hopes of reaching even MORE people. And I love public speaking. Even though I am initially nervous about my performance, I usually feel great during and afterwards.
I also think it's interesting that the article mentions twin studies, because I actually have younger sisters who are identical twins, and they, too, are gregarious, probably even more so than me. They are often the life of every party we go to.
The only one of my siblings that wasn't always gregarious is my brother. He used to be so painfully shy in high school that he actually couldn't even call customer service representatives and would make me make the calls for him. It was kind of pathetic. My theory is that it was probably a result of being born in the middle of a gregarious gaggle of girls that caused him to be so quiet at the time. Fortunately, he went away to college, came out of his shell, and came back much more sociable. It was kind of shocking, really. Suddenly, he was cracking jokes at parties and being publicly goofy for laughs. I felt like asking "Who are you and what have you done to our brother?"
But I have to admit, he's much more fun now. He is now a little social butterfly. My favorite Facebook status of his this week was "Jay has a rock in his shoe". Apparently, he's not shy anymore. Now, how can I shut him up so I can get a word in edge-wise?
http://www.boston.com/news/health/articles/2009/03/23/study_indicates_that_gregariousness_is_genetic/
According to the article, gregariousness may be a heritable trait. Williams syndrome is a syndrome characterized by "abnormally vigorous sociability", extroversion, and less fear of people than the average person. However, they also have poor visual-spatial skills, which I don't think I have (although my husband would probably disagree on account of my sometimes less than spectacular driving skills).
I have to admit I do love people and that it is very rare for me to find someone that I'm afraid of talking to. My friends are often surprised and shocked that I can just go up to total strangers and start conversations with them. I am also never intimidated by anyone. If the Queen of England was in the same room as me, I would definitely find a way to talk to her. I can also talk to almost anybody and probably for hours. I like their funny quirks and interesting stories. And I like to talk. It's hard to shut me up at times. I meet new people almost everyday. I am one of those people who starts conversations with people while they are waiting on the grocery line or the line in the bathroom or at the post office. I once spent an entire flight to Vegas chatting up a middle aged lady (wait--am I middle aged?) while my husband plugged his ears with his iPod. I am often an embarrassment to my more shy friends because of my chatty nature.
This is probably also why I have totally embraced all these networking websites. As of today, I am on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, and now of course, I have my own blog. Tomorrow I may add something else.
Also, I aspire to write a book someday in the hopes of reaching even MORE people. And I love public speaking. Even though I am initially nervous about my performance, I usually feel great during and afterwards.
I also think it's interesting that the article mentions twin studies, because I actually have younger sisters who are identical twins, and they, too, are gregarious, probably even more so than me. They are often the life of every party we go to.
The only one of my siblings that wasn't always gregarious is my brother. He used to be so painfully shy in high school that he actually couldn't even call customer service representatives and would make me make the calls for him. It was kind of pathetic. My theory is that it was probably a result of being born in the middle of a gregarious gaggle of girls that caused him to be so quiet at the time. Fortunately, he went away to college, came out of his shell, and came back much more sociable. It was kind of shocking, really. Suddenly, he was cracking jokes at parties and being publicly goofy for laughs. I felt like asking "Who are you and what have you done to our brother?"
But I have to admit, he's much more fun now. He is now a little social butterfly. My favorite Facebook status of his this week was "Jay has a rock in his shoe". Apparently, he's not shy anymore. Now, how can I shut him up so I can get a word in edge-wise?
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The Universe is a Child
Cape Cod, 2007 There is a beautiful story in the Hindu religion about the Lord Krishna and his adoptive mother Yashoda. Krishna as a little boy is a bit of a trouble-maker. He tries to get away with all kinds of mischief but even so, he is adored by everyone because of his charm and lovable nature. One day, his mother Yashoda discovers from one of Krishna's friends that he has been naughty and has been eating clay. Yashoda asks Krishna to open his mouth so she can look for evidence of this. Fearing that he would get in trouble with his mother, he decides to reveal to her at that very moment who he really is. When Yashoda looks into his mouth, she is shocked to see the entire universe--everything that exists--within him. She immediately realizes that her little boy is no ordinary little boy at all, but in fact is divine, a deity on earth, and kneels down before him in respect. Seeing this, Krishna immediately regrets his decision, because he realizes that she will no longer scold him, hold him, and love him as a mother would, but now treat him with the respect afforded a god. He doesn't want that at all--he just wants to be a boy--and so he casts a spell on her so that she forgets what she had just seen. Soon after, she is back to coddling him the way she always has.
I just adore that story so much! I didn't really know why it resonated with me so much, but recently I think I figured out why. All the countless stars and planets, spinning in all of their solar systems, and in all of their millions of galaxies, do not fascinate me as much as the two little beings in my own house do! A universe indeed exists inside the child of every parent. Everything begins and ends with them. Their existence, I think, is as miraculous as the universe itself, just on a smaller scale.
The other reason I love this story so much is that Krishna would rather be a little boy because he realizes that he will be better loved as a child than as a god. It attests to how beautiful and powerful the relationship between a mother and child is--perhaps even better than one's relationship with God.
Happy 6th birthday to my darling daughter--you mean the universe to me!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Harold and Kumar Go to the White House
Apparently, Barack Obama has not seen my blog yet, or he may have reconsidered this decision:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090407/ap_on_go_pr_wh/people_kal_penn
LOL...But, seriously, Kal Penn is going to the White House?! Don't get me wrong--I think he's an excellent actor--very funny, charming, and I've definitely busted a gut many times watching his antics in the Harold and Kumar series of movies, which include the cinematic masterpieces "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle" and "Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay". He's definitely done a lot for mainstreaming us "desis", as we Indians like to call ourselves. But Kumar in the White House? Maybe he's very qualified for the job, but every time I see him at a press conference I'm going to think he just smoked a joint...LOL...
I guess we can count on the legalization of marijuana next...
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090407/ap_on_go_pr_wh/people_kal_penn
LOL...But, seriously, Kal Penn is going to the White House?! Don't get me wrong--I think he's an excellent actor--very funny, charming, and I've definitely busted a gut many times watching his antics in the Harold and Kumar series of movies, which include the cinematic masterpieces "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle" and "Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay". He's definitely done a lot for mainstreaming us "desis", as we Indians like to call ourselves. But Kumar in the White House? Maybe he's very qualified for the job, but every time I see him at a press conference I'm going to think he just smoked a joint...LOL...
I guess we can count on the legalization of marijuana next...
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Wealthy
My mom was only 23 when she had me. I don't think at 23 that I would've been able to handle being a mother and to do it well. But my mother, by that age, was very well-prepared.She grew up in a little farming village in India. They didn't have much money and very few possessions. I remember her telling me that every day after they came home from school, they had to wash the one pair of school clothes they had so they could wear them again the next day. She was the eldest child out of a brood of 8, 3 girls and 5 boys, and my grandmother's first and best helper, even starting school late because she was needed at home to help with her younger siblings.
As the oldest, she had a special place in their household. All of her siblings (to this day) look up to her. She was considered everyone's favorite, especially my grandfather's. When she finally did start school, she did very well, and always earned top marks. And though they couldn't really afford it, her family decided to send her to college, going so far as to take small loans out in order to pay for her tuition.
I find that part of her story just so amazing. Back then, I think it was very progressive to go through such pains to put your daughter through college (especially with so many other children at home, including boys). Most of her contemporaries were getting married off. She was the only one in her family that did end up going to college.
It was there that she met my father and married and soon after, they had me. My father had the opportunity to come to America to work and went abroad early in their marriage. My mother and I joined him a little later when I was about a year old.
As I was growing up, I remember thinking my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had big eyes, high cheekbones and a slender, elegant frame. I always wished that I looked more like her, but everyone always told me that I looked more like my dad (which I have to admit, is true).
She was a very hard worker. She always had a full time job, even when we were little, and also ran most of the household. Even though my dad had learned to live on his own for a year before she came to America, once she arrived, she took it upon herself to do most of the cooking and cleaning.
She was always such a passionate person--a typical Aries--outspoken, fearless, and energetic. We often butted heads when I was a teenager and she once told me "I hope you have a daughter that's just like you one day!" when I was being especially awful. I always find it ironic that we all share birthdays in April now: my mother, my daughter and I are all fiery Arians. She got her wish, I guess.
She taught me so many things over the years, like how to cook and put on a sari and speak in my native tongue. I often worry that I can't possibly give my children all the gifts she's given me.
I've admired her for so many reasons over the years: her beauty, her intelligence, her hard work and ambition. But the thing I most admire her for is her generosity.
She (and her entire family, for that matter) are generous to a fault. My whole life I've watched her give away things constantly. If someone admires something she's wearing, she's the type of person who will take it off and give it to them on the spot. She is constantly gifting people, sometimes people she barely knows.
The rest of her family, too, is like that. All her brothers and sisters are exceptionally generous. I can't tell you how many times as a kid that they pressed money into my palm for some reason or other, or for no reason at all. Even now, as an adult, they try to give me or my children money and gifts all the time.
I often wonder what it is about them that makes them all like that. I think that it must have something to do with how poor they were as children. They don't look at money the way other people do. They don't live in fear of losing money because early in life, they didn't have much to begin with. They have survived, and even thrived, and know it wouldn't be the end of the world if they didn't have it anymore.
Just like everyone now, I worry about my job, my home, my savings. I wonder what the future holds. But then I think of my mother and her family that did so much with so little and I think, I too, will survive no matter what. If I have my health, my mind, and my family--well, there is nothing I won't be able to do. Rich or poor, I will always be wealthy.
Thank you, mom, for the wealth of spirit you've given me. My glass is always half-full.
Happy 60th birthday! I love you!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Affirmative Action for Kids
Here's another funny story about the kids:
The kids have recently starting doing chores around the house. This is thanks to the Obamas who we heard on the news are doing chores even in the White House, which made me think, "Hey, my kids don't do any chores!" So I recently instituted a chore chart and they now earn stickers for each of their chores. After they earn 20 stickers, they can pick a $1 prize from the Target dollar bins as their reward. (I know it sounds stingy, but come on, they should be doing chores for FREE!)
Anyway, the other day I was unloading the dishwasher and I asked each of them to take one basket of utensils and sort them in the drawers. This is the funny conversation that occurred afterwards:
M, my 6 year old daughter: OK, I put them all away. What can I help with now?
Me: You guys are all set. You can each give yourself a sticker.
They run over to the fridge to put their stickers on and then M comes back.
M: Can I put away the knives?
Me: No.
M: Pleaaaase, Mom...
Me: No, you can't put away knives.
M (yelling): You NEVER let me put away the knives!!!
Me: It's too dangerous.
M: Why, why, WHYYY can't I put away the knives?
Anyway, I explained to her in a graphic manner (I'll spare you the gory details) that she could get cut, have to go to the ER, and then need stitches, and that wouldn't be fun, would it? She was all annoyed at me and went off in a big huff. Apparently, I was the worst mom ever because I didn't let her put away the knives. Can I do nothing right?
She eventually got over it and later earned a sticker for cleaning up her toys. But then D, my 4 1/2 year old son, got competitive and decided he was going to try his hand at sweeping the kitchen floor, which was sort of hilarious because he's rather short and the sweeper is rather long. He was going around and around wielding the awkward thing and getting totally frustrated. Don't worry--I gave him a sticker for his valiant effort even though the floor didn't actually get clean.
The funny thing about the chore chart is that they now throw tantrums in order to have opportunities to help out. Once D's sweeping was done, M said, "That's no fair! I didn't get to sweep the floor!" and then I had to come up with even more chores for them to do. The key is to make sure they each have equal opportunity to do the various jobs. It's kind of like Affirmative Action for Kids.
Today, we'll be doing laundry...
I better do two loads just to make sure there's enough to go around.
The kids have recently starting doing chores around the house. This is thanks to the Obamas who we heard on the news are doing chores even in the White House, which made me think, "Hey, my kids don't do any chores!" So I recently instituted a chore chart and they now earn stickers for each of their chores. After they earn 20 stickers, they can pick a $1 prize from the Target dollar bins as their reward. (I know it sounds stingy, but come on, they should be doing chores for FREE!)
Anyway, the other day I was unloading the dishwasher and I asked each of them to take one basket of utensils and sort them in the drawers. This is the funny conversation that occurred afterwards:
M, my 6 year old daughter: OK, I put them all away. What can I help with now?
Me: You guys are all set. You can each give yourself a sticker.
They run over to the fridge to put their stickers on and then M comes back.
M: Can I put away the knives?
Me: No.
M: Pleaaaase, Mom...
Me: No, you can't put away knives.
M (yelling): You NEVER let me put away the knives!!!
Me: It's too dangerous.
M: Why, why, WHYYY can't I put away the knives?
Anyway, I explained to her in a graphic manner (I'll spare you the gory details) that she could get cut, have to go to the ER, and then need stitches, and that wouldn't be fun, would it? She was all annoyed at me and went off in a big huff. Apparently, I was the worst mom ever because I didn't let her put away the knives. Can I do nothing right?
She eventually got over it and later earned a sticker for cleaning up her toys. But then D, my 4 1/2 year old son, got competitive and decided he was going to try his hand at sweeping the kitchen floor, which was sort of hilarious because he's rather short and the sweeper is rather long. He was going around and around wielding the awkward thing and getting totally frustrated. Don't worry--I gave him a sticker for his valiant effort even though the floor didn't actually get clean.
The funny thing about the chore chart is that they now throw tantrums in order to have opportunities to help out. Once D's sweeping was done, M said, "That's no fair! I didn't get to sweep the floor!" and then I had to come up with even more chores for them to do. The key is to make sure they each have equal opportunity to do the various jobs. It's kind of like Affirmative Action for Kids.
Today, we'll be doing laundry...
I better do two loads just to make sure there's enough to go around.
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