Monthly Archives: June 2010

Desiderata

Desiderata – by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

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I’ve been reading and re-reading this today in an attempt to be sane. To stay anchored.

It is one of those days when I am suddenly hit with the blurry pace of things and all I want to do is nap.

All I want is to be held so that I can empty my body of its tears and get on with the business of living.

I will things to slow down, imagining that if I think the thought long enough, the rest of my frantic body and manic mind will co-operate. They don’t.

So I read. And I re-read. I take huge gulping breaths and I go for a walk to pick wildflowers. I create my own bubble of quiet.

And I remember the wonderful moment today when my youngest child cupped my face in his sticky, stubby-fingered palms and planted a vanilla ice-creamed kiss on my lips. How the sun, high in the sky, made his smile shine as if surrounded by an aura. How I burst out laughing when he began performing his throaty ditties in the umm.. “personal” aisle of the store.

The moment when I was so silly that my oldest son rolled about on the sofa in gappy toothless glee, his entire body racked by chuckles.

And the man for whom the answer to “love me?” has always been “always”.

It is still a beautiful world, I say quietly to myself.

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Mi Casa

Arvind: Mamma, why are you staring at me? Stop staring at me.

MGM: *wistfully* I’m trying to remember you forever this way. Your last day as a first grader. I’m taking pictures in my mind.

Arvind: Mamma, you know you’re a bit wierd?

MGM: No baby. I’m WAY wierd. I’m plenty wierd.

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The Viking is co-building/assisting in re-building our garden patio. It promises to be a Beauty of the Burbs. I’m thrilled to death about this, but most of all I am thrilled because suddenly my dirty and totally infantile mind seized upon all the fun I can have with my “decent” lad and bejeezuz – the number of permutations and variations of lame-ass one liners with the words “nail”, “screw” “hammering” and “bending over”?

5899 at last count.

The man is hapless in the face of his insane wife calling him YET again with her latest pervy giggly.

He is SO hot for me, peeps.

The Polish workers are probably rolling their eyeballs like GET LAID ALREADY.

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The World Cup has been the perfect time to a) nurture an interest in football and b) pull out our Flags of the World book.  Now that school is out and we can geek without school interference, homework and such excrement, its all about flags, countries, capitals, nationalities and currencies.

I am mostly alarmed by how much I have forgotten over the years. Time for Mamma to brush up on her ejukayshun, dudes.

Now that we have ONE pedagogical activity in place, I can serve him beer for the rest of the vacation and we can laugh ourselves silly everytime we say Pyongyang.

Like PYOOONNNGYANNG.

Yeah, you had to be there.

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We are trying to teach Armaan numbers. Since he went all DIY with his potty training, our hopes were high and the magnetic board was dug out.

“Here’s the number 2, Armaan”

“No. It’s blue (B-noo).

“Yes, its a blue number 2”

“Not two. B-noo”

“Yes yes. Blue. But a number 2. Like One. Two.” I can hear my voice rising a pitch in the midly hysterical way a parent’s voice is raised when they suspect their child might be shtoopid. Less gifted. Whatever.

Luckily for Armaan, he could not give a sod. He cheerfully swipes the board clean and delights over the magnetic pieces lying strewn around.

So delighted that he breaks into an impromptu Michael Jackson dance.

“It’s all good,” I sigh, “We just have to give him more beer is all.”

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Filed under Armaan, Arvind, holidays, Self

Downside

The bitch about having two boys is being unable to say, ” You. You’re my favourite boy in the whole wide world. There will never be a boy like you.”

This is why I whisper it in the dead of the night into their sleeping ears, hoping that they can hear me in their dreams; hoping they know I’m there; hoping that they know that their mother’s heart is expansive enough to carry both of them in unique chambers of unending, spilt-over love.

This is also why there should be a computer programme that could have figured out how to give you one of each.

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Molten

You know Pappa is home

a) when bedtimes never end

b) cuddles are aplenty

c) there are extended sessions of gazing at the world map on the children’s bedroom wall to gush over the magic of platetectonics.

d) Will Vanuatu stay afloat long enough for us to ever see it?

Now all I need is video footage of Armaan saying, “PLATETECTONICS” in all seriousness.

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Complicated

“So how was your morning?” the Viking queries from a random platform somewhere in the North sea. Suddenly he might as well be on the moon for all the difference it makes.

“Terrible, ” I reply. “Arvind awoke, cleaned up, dressed, ate breakfast, drank his milk and just WALKED OFF TO SCHOOL ALL BY HIMSELF. He didn’t even need a walking companion. And I watched him walk away till he was a little speck with a hint of an orange cap on his head.”

“This is terrible?”

“And Armaan. My self-toilet training little man shouting “You are SO CLEVER, Armaan! Flinke du!” in wild appreciation everytime he tinkles successfully into the toilet bowl. Dressing himself, feeding himself, frustratedly trying to belt himself into his car seat. Just in case I’m not being clear –  he wants to do EVERYTHING himself!”

“Awesome,” responds the Viking enthusiastically, ” You realise this is it, right? We’re almost past it. Diaper changes, broken nights of sleep, following their every move. We’re almost FREE! WE can actually do things *gasp* TOGETHER soon because they will be self-sufficient. This is great!”

“No, you idiot! It’s not!” I wail inconsolably, “This is part where you say, Oh dear, we no longer have any babies to snuggle and babble gibberish to. There is no little person needing us and we need to have a NEW LITTLE PERSON needing us right now!

The gobsmacked man at the other end of the line manages to force the words, “You really want another baby?” through the complex circuitry connecting us somewhat tenuously at this moment.

Oh boy, the silence.

” No, I don’t want another baby. I want YOU to want another baby desperately. Then I can be the irritating voice of reason shooting YOU down with how life is good now and how everything has gotten so much easier and LETS GET A LIFE already. Please want another baby. That way, all the time I spend thwarting that thought will be time spent not wanting to do this all over again.”

Even my subconscious didn’t know it was all THIS complicated.

Meanwhile, I have a feeling that the huge FAIL – ACCESS DENIED on my application form to the Viking can be attributed to my total and complete lack of mental health as evidenced by sparkling conversation recorded above.

I’m going to have to win one soon.

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Filed under Motherhood, The Viking