Pools, Potties, and Pasghetti. And hugs.

The Littlest Gardener

Our community garden is growing! I cannot tell you the joy this little piece of earth brings me with its magically appearing rows of tiny green shoots and sunshine and little muddy feet. I'll let Samaya show you around...

Here is Dada's potato plant


And these are the snow peas


here we have the radish rows (which do look an awful lot like green butterflies!)


and this is my little garden in the corner


Mama lets me help with the watering. I mostly water myself.


and there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the tour!

Mother's Day

Today was my first Mother's Day. To celebrate, I scared the bejesus out of my daughter. Twice. I swear on Baha'u'llah that normally I am a very loving and empathetic mother but on both of these occasions I laughed. hard. really hard.

The first time I was attempting to turn the radio on - which is connected to the speakers also used for the TV. Apparently someone had been watching Oprah rather loudly (Sisay) and the antennae was disconnected, resulting in VERY LOUD fuzz. Or is it static. You know the sound. Samaya was right behind me trying to eat the antennae wire or gnaw on the glass door, and at that moment she let out a blood curdling scream while wrapping her body around my back and doing a little jiggle.

I promise I did NOT laugh until after I was holding her in my arms and had assured her that everything was okay. But then I started imagining what could possibly have been going on in her almost 1 year-old little brain and all I could think about was the smoke monster from Lost. I don't know, it felt appropriate at the time. So while I was assuring Samaya that the smoke monster had not in fact traveled through the radio waves to get us (besides, the reception was too poor), I started laughing. Because it was just so funny that she had thought of that! This was also followed by another disconcerting feeling: she must have her grandfather's 'creative' imagination.

The second time, now that I think of it, was also my father's fault. Well, to be more accurate, it was Elmo Buff's fault. I was reading his wacked out blog this evening while Samaya played quietly across the room. We were both lost in our own worlds and when I finished reading I let out a strange high-pitched little chuckle. I guess I didn't sound like her mommy or something, but she screamed again and ran toward me like something had just nipped her on the butt. I might have laughed before she reached me.

There is a little girl in our house now who talks (in her own language, but convincingly so), walks, plays, laughs out loud, and gets scared. Where did my baby go?