Two Sons + One Daughter=This

G's attempt to eek a little joy out of playing soldiers with her brothers.

'Tis the Season

When the sun comes out, so does the laundry...

Then and Now

First birthday.

Beloved blankie.

A joy to be around from the very beginning.

Breakfast staple--bananas and peanut butter toast.
Nine years old. Still sweet, generous, and responsible. We love you, baby. Happy Birthday.

Strictly Speaking

Middle Son informed me today that he was feeling lemoncholy. Which, naturally, means that he's sad and sour with a high level of acidity.

Ah, my little old man. I do know what you mean.

Q:

...Does it make me a dork that I love Rosetta Stone Hindi the way some people love Sudoku?

On second thought, don't answer that.

When You Can't Have A Dog

Morning Has Broken

It's official (uh, I think). Monsoon is over. The sun shines defiantly over our diamond lake. The air is clean and yellow with light. Gone is the grayness that hung over our city like a hospital blanket. Mold dies under the pressure-gaze of sunlight. Depression (my constant companion) weakens by the hour.

The Good Dad

As a dad J is The Real Deal. Since he is human his kids get on his nerves sometimes, especially now that he spends more time working from home than he used to, and they are in his face a lot. But he's still a very good dad. Today he made the kids cardboard daggers which they colored and bejewelled gleefully. They are into playing battle these days for some reason. Maybe it's because our focus verses have been Ephesians 6: 10-12. Whatever the reason, at the moment they are skipping around the apartment making whooshing, slaying noises and then pausing to admire their weapons again.

Thanks, J, for being yourself. 'Cause you know I would never make a cardboard dagger, and that's no lie.

Different Strokes

Today we spent a good part of the day with two like-minded Indian friends from our city. They're newlyweds and a great deal of fun to be around. Since they were with us over the lunch hour we offered them dhal chawal, chutney and salad.

The fun thing is, they're both from the village and they eat with their right hands. I mean they literally eat with their hands. All our Indian friends swear that skipping the silverware (or cutlery, as they call it) makes every food taste better. So today J and I decided that we'd let our friends teach us the fine art of eating rice and soupy dhal using only fingers.

You should have seen the look on our kids' faces when we told them that they could mash up their rice, pinch it, and plop it in their mouths. G's eyes shone as she breathed, "This is gonna be SO FUN." And it was. Turns out, though, that eating with your right hand (and it can only be your right hand since the left is used for bathroom purposes here in South Asia) requires a little more finesse than you might imagine.

In the end, we all agreed that eating without silverware does make meals more fun, if a little messy at this stage. We feel ready for the village now. Next time I have the chance to go to K-town, I'll be able to join everyone else and eat like a pro--on the floor, with my right hand.

Life

We spent last week in another city, one that feels a lot like home for us. It was the first place we settled for awhile when we first came to India. It was so good to see familiar faces, both brown and white, and to catch up on the happenings in our dear friends' lives. The week flew too quickly and before we knew it, we found ourselves on the night train and on our way back home.

We came back to our city--one that had experienced unprecedented flooding and icy rain for days. Our landlady informed us, disapprovingly, that there had been no electricity coming to the apartment for days and no water. We climbed the stairs to find her absolutely correct. Our apartment was a dark, chilly cave. But, as usual, there were little sustaining mercies. The power came on for about 10 minutes once--just enough time to make a pot of (sorely-needed) coffee, and to check our e-mail. Then it was out again.

This lasted for about 36 hours, and then things righted themselves. The Lord is gracious and good all the time. We're washing and drying clothes now, watching the taps slowly begin to give full streams of water, and we're happy. Coming back to this city felt like coming home and we were grateful that our apartment sustained almost no damage from the rains.

Now I'm waiting for my homeschool curricula to arrive. The rains have slowed down the couriers. The kids are happy for the unexpected reprieve from phonics, history, and hand writing as we wait. I'll be back to studying my Hindi on my own again after quite a break. It pulls me back in, this language, like a giant invisible magnet, and I cannot stay away for too long.

Oldest Boy's birthday is on the 29th of this month and he eagerly awaits the momentous event--he's turning nine. But you'd think by his talk that he's turning 18. The kids are growing, our work is flourishing, and our hearts are changing, little by little.

Nan Devi

A festival of the two-headed goddess. Men carry her through the city while people throw rice at her. Finally she's placed in the lake to drown. Not sure of all the significance, but I know it kept us from sleeping last night.

Home

Daddy is home. Sigh. I can finally sleep again.

The Good, The Bad, and The Inappropriate

A lot has been going on for our family lately. There's our friends leaving our city, the mystery plague we've all lovingly shared, and then today a riot which took place two buildings down from our apartment. (It has fizzled out so I'm not worried, but it was something to see, I can tell you).

J called from another village to tell me that things are going great there and that it's been one of the best experiences he's had--if not the best--in our 1.5 years here. That makes everything else seem worth it.

But on a lighter note, I went through some items my kids no longer use and I decided to send them downstairs so that my landlady could give them to those in need. She's Sikh and part of her religion involves helping the poor, so I thought this little arrangement would work out great.

But I'm also a ditz, as my sisters will tell you.

Wanna know something else about Sikhs? Sikhs don't cut their hair. It's quite literally against their religion. The men keep very long, neatly waxed beards and the women often have braids that fall to their knees. So I should not have said what I said next:

Me (after dropping off several garbage bags of clothes and toys): Thanks so much for taking these things from me. They were taking up too much space in the apartment. I feel like I've just gotten a haircut. I feel great!

My landlady (glassy-eyed):

Me (as my brain registers the faux pas and I whisper an involuntary crap): Ok, bye!

Yeah...

Update

For those of you who asked, J is getting better every day. In fact, he left for the mountains tonight (with his boss) and will be gone for a couple of days. He still feels weak and shaky, but this assignment was too important to pass up or delay, so he's going in faith.

The medical professionals we talked to think that J (and now the rest of us) has been battling H1N1 (also known as Swine Flu) rather than Dengue. It is rampant around here these days because of monsoon, apparently. Anyway, I've been feeling bad the last two days (though not nearly as bad as J felt. Yay for mommunity). The kids have been complaining of aches and fatigue. And there's really nothing we can do except drink lots of (bottled) water, sleep, and take acetaminophen. Oh, and pray. We're doing all the above.

When we rise from the ashes, I'll let you know. Love.

Boo

J is slowly getting better. Thank you for the prayers. Please keep them coming as I am tanking out now.

Crazy

We are in crazyland right now. J feels wretched and has for a few days. We went to the doctor and he didn't know what was wrong. Long story short: it looked like J had Dengue Fever, but now it seems he has Swine Flu. Why 'seems,' you ask? Because we live in a small, remote town without great medical care. Even 'tests' run by doctors here are 'inconclusive' and unhelpful. Now I'm not making sweeping statements about all health care in this country. In mega cities people come from all over the world to participate in medical tourism because of relaxed government regulations (read: do it at your own risk) and amazingly low costs. It's just that most cities don't offer the health care that those few famous cities afford.

So we're waiting it out. J feels like his bones are broken. His joints hurt like mad, he has a fever and chills. I feel so bad for him but what can I do? No one ever called me Florence Nightingale. All I can do is give him generic acetaminophen (we're out of American Tylenol), try to let him sleep, and pray like anything that I'm not wiped out next. Would you pray that too? For me and the kids? And that J will heal quickly? He's got a job assignment to perform on Wednesday...

Movie Saturday

J is sick with an ear infection. We needed peace and quiet today and so we decided to watch a movie, the new Alice in Wonderland, on our Mac. We used iTunes, which is pure genius when one lives overseas and has no access to Hollywood Video. I popped popcorn (over a gas flame) and we ate Indian chocolate. It was a raging success, all in all. And though I'm no feminist, I must admit that I pretty much loved the new Alice. That's mostly because I'm taken in by anything Tim Burton does. He really does know what my dreams are made of. Does that make me mad, I wonder? Hmmm...Perhaps it does.

Headlines

All in a day's work, people...

Promises