It was true God time today with the monitos.
At 5:00 I decided that we were going to WALK, yes, WALK to Whole Paycheck. That is, according to MapQuest, .95 mile away from home. And we walked.
Now, for me that is not a huge task; I do that all the time to get to the gym. The huge task for me, indeed, was the patience factor--waiting for especially my youngest with the really tiny, short legs to, at his pace, keep up with the "big kids."
He did phenomenally well. I kept trying to find little incentives, like, "Oh, you can balance here!" or "Look, a fire engine!" (sidenote here: I have started substituting 'engine' or any other suitable word for 'truck' as, in the Young Prince's vernacular, 'truck' comes out sounding like a rather profane action...and he LOVES his f***s. Big f**k. Small f**k. Bob (the Builder) f**k. Cement f**k. Dump f**k. And the like. You get the picture. The relatives love it.)
A rewarding dinner at Whole Paycheck, followed by potty breaks for all and shopping for the cheese that I so need for the lasagna I am making for MY birthday dinner tomorrow night (the cake is for him. I went through 40 hours of labor, so I at least get to eat what I want for dinner!) and, spirits rejuvenated, we headed back for home, singing "Little Red Caboose" all the way home.
What joy. What fun. What a great way to get in touch with my inner child. I love feeling so at-peace, and with my beautiful children holding each of my hands while walking down the street singing Buckwheat Zydeco...well, that just can't be beat. Thank you, God!
jueves, 30 de agosto de 2007
a half month and a half a world away...
I need to start blogging again. It has been too long!!! And so much has happened, so many changes, so much evolution--
First off: Perú
Many places I have visited in my last trips to Perú have now been completely destroyed. The friendly places in which I stayed are now piles of rubble in Paracas and Pisco and Ica, the restaurants at which I ate and the shops where I purchased omiyage for the children in my life are now part of memory. The Paracas National Reserve sustained huge damage, including the destruction of the celebrated and famous Catedral rock formation, an estimated 30+million years old, that fell into the ocean. A brother of a friend who is now living in Pisco was finally able to contact family. His home fell to the ground, but he climbed out of the rubble. He got out. Sounds like he was one of the luckier ones.
My thoughts wander back to two people: one, a lovely man I had met, a caretaker at the bungalowes in Paracas where I stayed. This was not the Hotel Paracas but a small, simple place that made both my stays very comfortable. He was a wonderful gentleman who came to bring me breakfast on my balcony each morning and, upon my return trip six months later greeted me with a wide smile and abrazo that made me feel so welcome.
I hope he is okay.
I probably will not go back there to find out, at least not in the foreseeable future.
The other was a mute whom a friend had assisted by feeding him daily, as he had heard this man howling in the streets and found out by trying to communicate with him that he was hungry. I met this man during my last trip in January--the pisqueños call him "el loquito" (the little crazy guy). Then, while surfing the images of the quake on the rpp.com website, I found this picture of him. That made me so happy, to have some positive light, a picture of an anonymous man who I had actually met, who has no idea the impact he has made in the lives of others, who just lives day by day and perhaps is surprised some days he actually wakes up.
Churches I visited are now crumbled to the ground, claiming the lives of many devouted celebrating what was their final Mass of the Assumption. Ironically, the prison in Chincha collapsed, freeing 600 inmates. Few have been recaptured.
The Ballestas Islands are said to be 60-90% destroyed.
I am sad, wistful, my mind filled with memories of places visited, places that will no longer be the same as I remember them to be. Yet lives are starting over, renewal will occur, and I hope to be able to, one day, rejoice in the reconstruction efforts of those so massively affected by the quake.
Secondly, my baby boy.
C turns 3 tomorrow. The thought that three years have flown by so quickly overwhelms me. However, I look back at myself at the same time and realize how much personal change I have allowed to occur and I am pleased; indeed, I don't feel I have wasted too much time (!) and I am definitely a better mother now that I am allowing myself to be so, giving myself permission to stop trying to please others and do what everyone else will applaud me for...and just be me. Much easier. My children are teaching me so much!
Happy Birthday, Baby Boy! And you are off--to preschool next week!
There is so much more but I have, alas, run out of time. There has been so much soul-searching this year--I have not wanted to write so as not to write the wrong things--we'll see if I can't shake that a bit now--but old habits do die hard.
First off: Perú
Many places I have visited in my last trips to Perú have now been completely destroyed. The friendly places in which I stayed are now piles of rubble in Paracas and Pisco and Ica, the restaurants at which I ate and the shops where I purchased omiyage for the children in my life are now part of memory. The Paracas National Reserve sustained huge damage, including the destruction of the celebrated and famous Catedral rock formation, an estimated 30+million years old, that fell into the ocean. A brother of a friend who is now living in Pisco was finally able to contact family. His home fell to the ground, but he climbed out of the rubble. He got out. Sounds like he was one of the luckier ones.
My thoughts wander back to two people: one, a lovely man I had met, a caretaker at the bungalowes in Paracas where I stayed. This was not the Hotel Paracas but a small, simple place that made both my stays very comfortable. He was a wonderful gentleman who came to bring me breakfast on my balcony each morning and, upon my return trip six months later greeted me with a wide smile and abrazo that made me feel so welcome.
I hope he is okay.
I probably will not go back there to find out, at least not in the foreseeable future.
The other was a mute whom a friend had assisted by feeding him daily, as he had heard this man howling in the streets and found out by trying to communicate with him that he was hungry. I met this man during my last trip in January--the pisqueños call him "el loquito" (the little crazy guy). Then, while surfing the images of the quake on the rpp.com website, I found this picture of him. That made me so happy, to have some positive light, a picture of an anonymous man who I had actually met, who has no idea the impact he has made in the lives of others, who just lives day by day and perhaps is surprised some days he actually wakes up.
Churches I visited are now crumbled to the ground, claiming the lives of many devouted celebrating what was their final Mass of the Assumption. Ironically, the prison in Chincha collapsed, freeing 600 inmates. Few have been recaptured.
The Ballestas Islands are said to be 60-90% destroyed.
I am sad, wistful, my mind filled with memories of places visited, places that will no longer be the same as I remember them to be. Yet lives are starting over, renewal will occur, and I hope to be able to, one day, rejoice in the reconstruction efforts of those so massively affected by the quake.
Secondly, my baby boy.
C turns 3 tomorrow. The thought that three years have flown by so quickly overwhelms me. However, I look back at myself at the same time and realize how much personal change I have allowed to occur and I am pleased; indeed, I don't feel I have wasted too much time (!) and I am definitely a better mother now that I am allowing myself to be so, giving myself permission to stop trying to please others and do what everyone else will applaud me for...and just be me. Much easier. My children are teaching me so much!
Happy Birthday, Baby Boy! And you are off--to preschool next week!
There is so much more but I have, alas, run out of time. There has been so much soul-searching this year--I have not wanted to write so as not to write the wrong things--we'll see if I can't shake that a bit now--but old habits do die hard.
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