The Wisdom of Miss Mabel
"Cause tomorrow is a brand new day and it don't know white from black . . . " . . .
Unwelcome Guest
Turns out we did bring a little guy home from Haiti. But not the one we hoped. This little parasite's name is Giuardiasis. We call him Gordy for short. He has been making his presence known for a few weeks, and the doctors confirmed it yesterday. In fact - a whole slew of doctors. Turns out our family has sparked many a consultation at our local medical group. Prescriptions have been filled. Pills have been taken. We wait expectantly for our tummies to respond. Gordy, buddy, it's been . . .
India on Percussion
Now it's India's turn. She shows a lot of promise until her noisemakers get tangled up. . . .
Jafta on Drums
Jafta shows off his drumming skills, while India tries to eat a shaker. This is to Ozomatli's "Como Ves". Jafta thinks the lyrics are "I'm a Mess". Who am I to correct him? . . .
40 is the new 30.
This month we had a blast celebrating the 40th birthday of two friends: Wendy and Tracey. For Wendy's birthday, we went to Paso Robles for a weekend of wine-tasting. And a wee bit of wine-fueled karaoke. (yes, that is John Maurer of Social Disortion singing Peter Frampton for his wife's birthday). For Tracy's birthday, we got to celebrate at a party in their newly-renovated home in Laguna. We are still a few years away from the big 4-0, but if this is any indication of what is to come, BRING . . .
Women Helping Women
The Women's Program of Heartline Haiti is all about teaching women to care for their babies and find industry and self-care for themselves. They assist in prenatal and parenting classes, and teach women a trade, like sewing or crocheting purses. Here is a story about one of the women in their program: Today was one of those days when the women's program did its job. It worked. I don't know how the end result will turn out but I saw women surrounding one of their own and coming to her aid with . . .
And the Pupil Shall Become the Teacher
A few days ago, I picked Jafta up from preschool with the music blaring, seizing the opportunity to listen to my own CD's before "DJ Jafta" got in the car. When he was all buckled in, he informed me, "I don't like the White Stripes. We need some worship music in here". Jafta can be really pokey and distracted while getting dressed. Sometimes I set the timer to give him an incentive to hurry. Yesterday, the kids were dressed and ready for playgroup and I was still drying my hair. Jafta . . .
Indiana Jones and the Decline of Gray Matter
My husband and I love movies. I will admit, I am somewhat of a movie snob. I like independent films. I love a good story with an astute character sketch. I love a documentary that makes me think. I love movies with sweeping cinematography, great acting, and a juxtaposition of cultures. I never met a Merchant Ivory film I didn't like. Over the years, Mark's taste has evolved and he is pretty game for these types of movies, too. However, all this flies out the window when Mark is with his . . .
The New Mom Jean
I went shopping for jeans the other day, and I'm still reeling by some uncomfortable revelations. My shopping quest started because I decided it was time to venture out from my hoodie-and-yoga-pants uniform that I wear pretty much every day. I decided it was time for a little self-care. I'm still young and hip, right? I need a young and hip outfit. I started my adventure in Urban Outfitters, and then headed over to H&M. I can count on these stores to clue me in on the latest . . .
The Mystery of the Murky Bath (or, Houston, We Have a Floater)
I have tried, people. I have tried to refrain from this topic. But I cannot stop myself. After playgroup today, I was giving Jafta and India their usual pre-nap bath. All of the sudden, right before my very eyes, the bathtub gets cloudy. And brown. After a second, I realize that someone has pooped in the bathtub. Someone has taken a serious. poop. in the bathtub. I whisk the kids into my shower to clean them off, and immediately start the inquisition. However, the perpetrator remains at large. . . .
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