Luckybeans

20/52

Ana finished her AP exams this week, thank heavens. She slept for twelve hours last night and still could hardly move. Each day, we see her stepping into herself more fully, becoming aware of where she wants to go and who she wishes to be. She joined us in deepening on the Ridvan message at a meeting held by the Auxilary Board Members, and we are so impressed by the depth of her perception, her thoughtful consideration, her enthusiasm, and her immediate desire to translate all she learns into action and service.

This boy has discovered dragons, especially the Dragonkeeper trilogy by Carole Wilkinson. A world of magic he never wants to leave. He walked to the university with me this afternoon, so he could point out a killdeer nest he had found, and built mathematical models at the art exihibit at the library while he waited for me to print 300 pages. I find myslef savoring every moment I get to spend like this with him.

I found Bella climbing a tree in her party dress, settling into a nest of moss she had built. This one has always been herself, in every way, at all times. What a gift. Her junior youth group animators report how courageous and strong, humorous and patient she is. Sometimes I have the same urge to smoosh her right up that I did when she was two. Except she is as tall as I am now.

Others joining the 52 project can be found here.

Pakoras

This is the only fried food I make at home. It is hardly glamorous, and I'm sure nobody's granny protects it as a closely-guarded family secret. But, you know, we like them. When the weather warms, a plate of pakoras, slices of watermelon doused in lime juice, and mango lassis make a favorite backyard supper.

Here is how we make ours:

2 1/2 C gram (chickpea/ garbanzo) flour

2 tsp salt

2 tsp garam masala

1/2 tsp freshly cracked pepper

Mix together and add:

1 1/2 C water

1/2 finely diced onion

This is your batter. You can add: frozen peas and leftover boiled potatoes (diced), cilantro or curry leaves; chilies for spice, small pieces of chicken or fish, and/or lightly steamed vegetables (I used spinach here).

Mix together thoroughly.

Heat 1 1/2-2" of oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Drop the batter in by the tablespoon. It will be sloppy and misshapen, and will float and puff as it cooks. When the bottom is brown, after about 2 minutes, flip over so the other side gets its turn. Remove with a slotted spoon and keep pakoras on paper towel in a prewarmed oven until ready to serve.

We like to eat ours with tamarind sauce:

2 tbs tamarind paste

2 tsp demerrera sugar

1/8 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp ground cumin

1/4 C boiling water

I pour the boiling water over the other ingredients and mix well. If you want a thicker sauce, you can make this in a pot and thicken it with cornstarch, but I can't be bothered.

Pile you pakoras on a plate, grab your sauce, and enjoy! Easy, cheap, gluten free and delicious.

Real Oregonians

Simon and Asher made a covered wagon. A real one, with all of the authentic parts, including tongues and axels and drawstrings (which are not tied in the photos, which explains why the cover does not appear tidy-- my fault, not the design) and other things I don't know about. It is packed with blankets, pots, bags of flour and coffee and beans, rope, tools and even a butterchurn.They are ready for anything, I tell you.

And in case you spotted the Nike swoosh on the upcycled wagon cover-- well, Nike is legit Oregonian, too. 

We have arrived.

19/52

Ana spent the weekend studying hard for her AP Biology exam. She is still in ninth grade, so I am not entirely sure it is appropriate. If nothing else, it will have given her some better study skills and a familiarity with the the subject when she encounters it again.

Bella has been a champion Asher-entertainer this week. She took him out to the park for the afternoon, including a stop for ice cream with her pocket money.

Asher in a moment of pure bliss: muddy, splashing and warm.

Joining others for the 52 project here.

Moms Rok

Recently discovered "graffiti" on Asher's window.

There are many things that can be said about Mother's Day. My children sort of looked at me blankly, forgoing cards or tea trays or flowers. They still associate Mother's Day with October, which is when it occurs in Malawi. So I can't be too upset, really.

And they also pointed out, quite rightly, that Mother's Day is a silly concept as one doesn't simply have a mother once a year, and ought to remember her every day.

Which is also true, and doesn't allow me to be too upset about this, either. 

Nonetheless, Simon and I both called our own mothers and we will go up for an afternoon visit with mine (and my father). 

I feel there is something important or incredible or life-altering and insightful I ought to say here. But I can't. When your entire world realigns, there is nothing more transformative, humbling or empowering, and none of it can be captured in a few sentences anyway.

This morning I am listening to the clinking rustle of Asher playing with legos on one side, Ana writing a song for a prayer on her guitar, and Bella sipping tea and reading a history book nearby. This is the sum of it, these incredibly simple, everyday realities that make me who I am and grant me love and grace and beauty I never imagined I could know.

I look to my children and am simply grateful to be allowed these few precious years with them-- to know and to love them as their mother.

And my happiest moments are when I get to watch them in their own joy, when I catch them growing and strengthening and becoming the people the world could surely never do without.

Oh Happy Day

When my grandmother was happy, she would putter about the kitchen humming and occasionally breaking out into sweet, warbling songs. One of her standards was "Oh happy day! Oh love divine!" She never got much further than that, but it was a sound bite that signaled all was glorious with the world, and nothing sounded better to my ears than my Momo's tenuous tunes.

After a patchy start, yesterday afternoon eventually found me humming away, and I thought of her as we settled down to an afternoon hour or two by the creek.

We brought a picnic snack (because we always bring a picnic something-or-other) that turned out to be quite yellow and white and stripey. Hunh.

We followed the path through the woods, down to the creek that ran and sparkled in the sun. We passed the well-known swimming hole overly populated by sparsely clad, verbally expressive teenagers, and settled into our own spot around the bend. It has a deeper bit, but the water was too cold for us today. It also has rocks and sand, but Bella and Asher were mostly interested in the mud.

They churned up great slurping masses of it, jumped into it...

...and then proceeded to "get stuck" and "have to be hauled out." Oh, that's good fun.

One of the loveliest things about having children is watching them develop relationships with each other. Bella and Asher share a special tender goofiness that is all theirs and completely unique.

Ana was not into the mud pit. She sat and read the whole time, following a patch of sun as it progressed. Fair enough.

At one point Asher and Bella missed Simon, so they called him and shouted strange and incomprehensible things at him over the phone. 

After a bit of slapping the water with a long stick, it was time to head home.

Back along the path, fully doused in mud, water and sunshine, we returned from whence we came-- soggier, muddier, and a good bit happier.

 

 

 

 

Keeping Up with the Sickies

It is an interesting thing to be responsible for sick children in the midst of it all. The outside world doesn't grind to a halt just because someone else needs you right now. Papers must be written, analysis run, labs completed, books read, lectures attended. Floors must be swept, dishes cleaned, laundry washed, food prepared, seeds watered. Paperwork must be completed, bills paid, ballots signed and delivered, permission slips checked off, phone calls and emails returned. And on top of it all, Simon is on another coast (at least on the same continent, though) which means I must juggle it all on my lonesome.

I should be a jibbering wreck. I really should be.

Do you sense the "but" coming?

Here it comes:

I am not. It has been a blessing. No, not the vomit bowls and yucky tissues flung far and wide and the trips to the doctor who could not identify what the heck that rash was, no sirreee. Not those parts. The slowing down and taking time to be with people who need me because I love them and they are my people parts. 

I ate later breakfasts and turned in work that was less than perfect, but perfectly satisfactory. I read lots of Calvin and Hobbes and Asterix and Elsa Beskow. I watched someone play Oregon Trail and far too many episodes of Kipper and the Muppet Show.

I hung laundry out to dry with Bella, and sat on the grass beside her while she read.

I had Asher help water those seeds and we took the time to savor the garden.

I spent a long time watching him kick a soccer ball around, his stream of chatter completely uninterrupted the entire time (seriously-- look how often his mouth is open; it's because he is TALKING).

Tomorrow we are down to one (significantly less) sick boy at home and everyone else back at school. But come Friday, they will all have the day off, and i am looking forward to it. I refuse to be concerned by such trivialities as midterm exams and writing revisions. I have far more important things to attend to.

I also want to express my gratitude to everyone who left comments on this post. It is so encouraging and delightful to hear from you. I wish I had the time to send replies to each and every one of you as you surely deserve, but I just can't right now. So I simply say, thank you.

 

18/52

One studying for AP exams, one with stomach flu and one with a fever and cough do not willing photography subjects make. Some weeks are like this. But I suspect I will one day remember even this warm day spent lounging in pajamas all over the house and grass, eating watermelon and leaving trails of tissues with a certain measure of fondness (it is part of the obligatory construct of motherhood, this rose-tinted hindsight, no?)

Joining Jodi here, and particularly enjoying this lovely photo (because two out of three is completely respectable, and i never regret visiting Emma.)

This is just to say...

...that we woke up with two very sick children today. It is supposed to hit 85 degrees. I have more homework than I can possibly cope with. We got the seeds planted in the garden (two months later than aniticipated). The house is a disaster. There is no food. Simon leaves again tomorrow.

But it looks like summer.

I will be back here someday, although it is beginning to look like that will be later rather than sooner.

17/52

Friends, forgive my absence this week. I've had the stomach flu and will return when I feel more able.

Simon just returned from a trip to Zambia. The kids were thrilled he brought them home Super Maheu. Supa Maheu is still supa! Long time readers may recall Asher loving this as a wee one still in diapers. A little taste of Africa in their bellies; those of you who have lived elsewhere and have their hearts in more than one home can surely appreciate the value of these small comforts.

An enormous thank you to Jodi for featuring last week's portraits on her gorgeous blog. She always has links to others as part of this project here. 

This week I have also been enjoying an old favourite, Ella's Little Red Caboose. It is such a delight to watch her boys grow, and she records it all with such beauty and fun.