Sound good?

Arun ends many of his sentences with a fervently earnest "Sound good?" As in "Hey mama! I go see train, go get ice cream, then go home and then watch Max and Ruby. Sound good, mama? Sound good?" Yes, it does, babycakes. Yes, it does, indeed.

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As we all know, knitting makes the very best, most titillating of all blog fodder. Prop your eyelids up with some toothpicks and bear with me on this.........

I finally finished Anjali's blanket (I posted here about what this blanket has meant to me these past 8 months.) Towards the end, I was really struggling with my right hand going numb while knitting so it got to be s....l....o...w going at an excruciating pace (Sidenote: In general, this numbness has become a huge problem. Tweezing my eyebrows. Using a knife. Holding a pen. Holding a phone. Holding my baby. I thought it was carpal tunnel syndrome, but it appears it may be cubital tunnel syndrome instead. The cubital tunnel houses your ulner nerve - which is the whole "funny bone" thingie we all have going on our elbows. Except, it ain't so funny, let me tell you, because I may need surgery.) Anyway - I finally finished Miss Thang's blanket. I loved, loved doing this reversible cable pattern. I am not so happy with the border, but I was far too gone with it by the time I realized it was not working for me. If I could do this blanket over, I would have just done 9 panels of reversible cable portion instead of the 4 panels.

Regardless, I am quite happy with this blanket- it is a good yarn (Reynold's Signature) that is very, very durable for kids who tend to leak all varieties of bodily fluids on things. I have washed Arun's blanket over and over again with good results - in the washing machine, no less! I am debating whether to put up an official pattern for it, although I would really recommend just doing the 9 panels and seaming those together instead of using the garter stitch border.

Why are memes so under-rated?

Administrative Note: When I wrote about name changes the other day, I was not implying that mothers should have the same names as their children. I think in this day and age, folks do not really give a rat's butt about that kind of thing. It is just a personal hangup on my own part that I wanted the same last name as my kids.

So............... As I have said before, I think memes are the Rodney Dangerfield of blog fodder - I think they are fun. Colleen tagged me for one ages ago, but I had trouble with it. It was one of those "6 Random Things" meme, but we all know that "random" is just code for "interesting" and that no one really wants to know that your fingernails grow at an alarming rate (mine do and it is a pain in the ass). So yeah. It took me awhile to think of something not as random and maybe more interesting. Eventually, I just gave up and went with random. My apologies.

So, without further ado, here you go......

1. I have to make our bed every day. Every.Single.Day. Without fail. Even if it does not get made in the morning (which is rare, so very rare), I will make it just before I hop into it at night.
2. I hate the sun. HATE IT with the passion of a thousand burning ones. Bah. I prefer nice, chilly, damp, cloudy days. Bliss, they are.
3. My hair has been going gray since my early 20s. I vaguely remember the actual color of my hair. Brunette? Once, someone asked X what the color of my hair was and he said he did not know because it changes every month.
4. When I write with a pen or pencil, I use my middle finger to guide the pen, not my pointer finger as Normal Folks do.
   
5. I love junkin'. One thing I miss about my Kid Free days is trolling through antique malls and flea markets. I cannot wait to take Anjali and Arun when they get older, but it is a little too stressful to drag them through those places now. The best places to go junkin' are the ones with crap piled a mile high and stacked in tight quarters. Antique malls are not exactly the kid friendliest of spots.
6. I love maps. Two of my prized possessions are my great-grandmother's geography book from school (1907) and a physical globe that my Great Aunt P gave me (1950s). I have maps on walls throughout the house and treasure my atlas from the early 90s that I bought on payment because I could not afford to pay all at once. I thought having a GPS in our car was a total cop-out and I protested it, but in truth, I have had to so much fun with it. I use it quite frequently to find short-cuts or to take interesting detours. My favorite kinds of vacation involve flying into an airport, hopping into a rental car with map in hand or staying in a city and trolling the streets with map in hand. Add some public transportation into the mix and I am on Cloud 9.
   

What would happen if an Irresistible Force met an Immovable Object?

Last year, I purchased the Land Down Under Toob for Arun last year and it came with the little fella you see above. Arun called him "Daddy" for awhile. While X was mildly amused, I thought it was hilarious because besides not being Aboriginal, X is not even nearly as dark as that dude. So, I would giggle maniacally, which only served to encourage Arun even further. Naturally, Arun has always noticed darker guys and has usually been drawn to them. And I think it is sweet.

I have always thought it painfully trite to claim that "children do not see color" because truthfully, kids do see color - they simply do not assign a value to it. It does hurt me to know that someday, my children will encounter someone who cannot hide the fact that they think their father is a lesser person simply because his skin is darker and his passport foreign. It will be one of many disappointments in their lives that I will not be able to prevent.

But it begs a another question - what race will my children consider themselves to be? I doubt they will jump on the Indian Rickshaw of Ethnicity, but I hope that they at least harbor a sentimentality for their heritage - much as I do for things of the Irish and Scottish persuasion. It helps that my smoochy love affair with the Indian subcontinent of Asia began in 1989 and is still going strong - I am very excited to share that affection for India with my children. The fact that they both house some spicy, curried DNA of their very own only makes it all the more important for me to do so.

Recently, I was filling out some forms for Anjali for her pediatric dermatology appointment (she has sensitive skin and we needed to rule out eczema, which we did.*relief!*) On the form, there was a blank for "race" and I was puzzled as to what I should write. I wanted to simply write "American", but the form was medical and that would not have helped Anjali at all. So, I wrote "White/Asian Indian".

I am aware that many folks in America will never consider my kids "white" simply because they are mixed. I realize that most Indians will not even consider my kids to be "Indian". In the grand scheme, it is not such a big deal, I do not think. I love that my children are exactly what it means to be American. And besides, their father is living the American Dream - lock, stock, and barrel.

A few weeks ago, our Indian friend S from Boston became a US citizen. I was absolutely thrilled for her. No, I am not going to drone on about how this is the best country in the world blabbity blah blah. Actually, I am beginning to suspect the best country in the world is Sweden. But alas,, I would not want to live in Sweden. I would rather live here. Because this is still a pretty cool spot in which to live.

Okay...Okay.... I do not see all of us joining hands across America and singing in harmony as we drink our bottles of Coca-Colas. However, I would still argue that this country is a kinder, gentler country in which one can be "melted".

Who are you?

When I saw that train, I knew I absolutely had to purchase it for Arun.

You see, it is my maiden name.

Last year when I was pregnant and filling out some paperwork, I realized that I was okay with my married name. Not only that I was okay with it, but rather that I actually felt it was mine. I am K.G. (aka Cagey) now. That is me.

Then, last fall, for some inexplicble reason, I began using my full name - K.O.G. I am not sure why I did it - it was not a conscious decision, I just started using it. So now, when I am referring to myself when it is not in direct context to the kids, I use my full name.

When X and I were married, he was clear that he did not care which decision I made regarding a name change. To boot - his last name is actually his father's first name - many Catholics in India follow that tradition instead of a "family name". In addition, many, many Indian gals do not take their husband's names (changing visas and passports is a major heartache, so often, they do not mess with risking their visa status). So...... no biggie - I could keep my name, right?

Except that my parents are divorced and I hated it when my mom's last name was not the same as mine. Hated it. I really wanted my last name to be the same as my kids so the decision was a no-brainer for me. So, I changed my name sadly, but quite willingly for myself. End of story.

I do still miss my maiden name. And when I see a silly kid's toy emblazoned with it, it makes my heart go pitter-patter.

Where the hell are Max and Ruby's parents?

There is a picture of Max and Ruby's parents over the sofa, so they must be alive somewhere. But they are never even mentioned. Oh sure, you see Grandma - the lone bunny who represents the Responsible Adult Contingent for the wayward pair of bunnies known as "Max and Ruby", but let's face it - Grandma is a bit of a softie and is nearsighted to boot. She is waning in her twilight years and is is totally fooled by that scrap of a wench Ruby. Seriously - someone needs to step in and save the poor tortured soul that is Max. Cripes - that sadistic Ruby even takes credit for his work on her Bunny Scout projects. Someone needs to have her merit badges stripped, is all I'm sayin'. (On a serious note: I just totally love Max and Ruby. The 1940s decor and music really gets me. I hope Arun never grows tired of them, so I purposely try to space out his viewings based on that alone.)

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HEY. I did get the swimsuit! I went with a red top and navy bottom situation in a desperate attempt to offset the whole Old Lady Swimsuit thing I now have going on. Man, oh man - I LOVE this swimsuit. I received it on Friday and took Arun to the pool on Saturday. For once, I did not feel a need to cover up in a burqa on my way to the pool from the dressing room. Should I mention that I am totally hot in it and that except for the fact that I actually eat food, I look just like the model? What? I DO. X said so (Dude, he knows what is Good For Him). In fact, I am so sexxy hott in my new Old Lady Swimsuit that you could fry an egg on my double digit ass. True. MILF that, sucker.

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So, Little Miss Thang turned 8 months last week. She is really coming into her own personality-wise. She is easier going when it comes to sleep and such, but I am seeing such very strong signs of independence that I am seriously considering learning some Baby Signs to give her another tool for communication should her independent streak get too frustrating for her. I never, ever - not once - considered this for Arun, but I can see now where it may be useful to give Anjali an easier way to convey what she needs. I do not see her being such an easy-going toddler as Arun. Surely, lightening does not strike twice. I also think that Arun will have his work cut out for him because once Anju can stand up for her own self, he better watch out. Yikes. I almost feel sorry for him.

That said, I just adore her little personality. I am glad that she is showing some strong tendencies. I am just thrilled that she loves going places and seeing new things. She is always cautious but rarely scared or frightened of new people or situations.

Oh. Yeah. I do have another kid around here somewhere. Anyone who has great tips for photographing that rare, elusive creature known as "toddler" with Flash Gordonesque tendencies for avoiding flash photographing, assvice would be much appreciated and solicited at this point.

8 Months

All cheeks. All the time.

Car Baby

I took this picture because I simply adore the way her face lights up when she is in the car. She just loves getting in because she knows we will be going places.

Floored

Even after 8 months of this, we are still in awe of the fact that she will pass out just about anywhere. Obviously, I still feel the need to document it.

Point. Counter Point.

Yes, she grabs the nearby tomatoes. Yes, she bites into them. Yes, we are the worst parents ever.

She's a Doll

Again, the worst parents ever. In our defense, we did supervise this particular set of shenanigans.