Skip to main content

small memories

i blink and more than a month has passed.
i try to recollect all the major events, and i find that my memories are a flurry of smiles, walks, laughs, naps, strong will, snuggles, tantrums, celebrations, and words... lots of new words.

we went to new york to wish micah a happy birthday: the girls had a great time with their cousins and the inflatable pool
auntie stacy visited: the girls reconnected with their old nanny in a matter of minutes
there was a visit to the ER: caiah was wheezing and had to get a nebulizer treatment
at 19 months, the girls had their first real fever: they stayed so strong and happy
the girls had their last day of daycare until august; it perfectly ended with one last buggy ride
i had my last day of work: thank God i made it through another school-year
we joined gymboree again: the girls love that play area and gymbo the clown
rocky has become the girls' favorite playmate: the poor guy is smothered in affection and often roughed up
tunnel time with nanny stacy
we enjoyed father's day: the girls made great gifts, really.

my new nephew was born in Illinois: the girls are very excited to meet baby gideon before the summer is over. and his aunty cannot wait to hold him for the first time. what a strong name.  

we also went to dallas for a wedding and a week of time with cousins... but that trip deserves its own post.



viyah keeping her sister busy

swimsuits

father's day

caiah and rocky







viyah and rock
at micah's bday party








stacy!

cai in her hospital gown

gymboree










time does not stop and the moments multiply until they become hours and then days and soon months and years. so we try to fill our days with as much joy and appreciation as possible... teaching our children small lessons in forgiveness, sharing, and loving, as they teach us more than we could have ever learned on our own.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Most Beautiful Mama

My mama has always been beautiful. It is a beauty that is natural and effortless and is the type of beauty that filled my heart with longing when I was a child. I can recall staring at how flawless the even color of her skin was, how adorable the few freckles were on her cheeks, how symmetrical her nose was. I remember thinking how absolutely perfect she looked in a sari, her pleats folded so pristinely, and the tuck of material into her waist seamless and smooth.   I would often feel the softness of my mother’s hands. Hands that had delicate fingers that moved with precision and purpose. Hands that kneaded chapati dough and even held tight to a lawn mower. No matter what she did, her hands were always soft, always welcoming, always beautiful. But she never liked to focus on her own physical beauty. My mother’s true beauty comes from within.  I understood certain aspects of this inner beauty when I was a child. The beauty that comes from her servant’s heart and her work ethic -

conversations.

i find myself thinking a lot about the condition of this world, of this nation, and of the hearts of man.  i just open my eyes and really look around or open my ears to truly listen, and i cannot help but face the reality of evil. the reality of corruption. the reality of prejudice. the reality of inequality. the reality of bigotry. the reality of entitlement. the reality of self-righteousness. the reality of immorality. the reality of sin. i have struggled with the presence of these realities for a significant part of my life, and  maybe to some degree for all of my life. but now i struggle with them beyond my identity as a woman, or a child of immigrants, or an educator, or an indian-american, or a Christ follower. i struggle with these harsh realities as a mother. you see, we are trying our hardest to raise three people who will one day change their world. i believe that they can, and i pray that they will. these three little girls have hope in their souls and eternity i

i am left...

it was a grocery store in buffalo.  and it was a church in laguna woods.  and it was an elementary school in uvalde, texas.  it is all the times in between and all the times before.  and God please help us, it is all the times after.  i am left with my mind in a jumbled mass of arguments and anger, my heart a knot of ache and pain. i am left with my soul stretching its voice to plea. i am left as i attempt to send my children off to school and myself to walk into my own classroom with my will torn to shreds... barely a thread hanging onto any purpose at all. i am left weeping before bed, sobbing on the way to work, shuddering at the thought of this happening and america continuing on like usual.  i am left scrolling through pictures of beautiful humans that will never breathe again, left reading posts of those who miss the laughs of their cherished, left staring at photos of special occasions, a frozen moment that was supposed to be one in a series of many more. left searching for the